Page 36 of Deceiving Grier

I reread the last paragraph I’d written—for what must have been the third time—trying to pick up the trail my thoughts had been running down. Instead, I glanced at the time in the corner of my screen. Nearly six o’clock. Grier’s game should be done by now, and I wondered how it had gone.

I knew he’d been worried. I overheard him talking to Jett, telling him that his coaches had been giving him shit for the way he’d been playing. Grier had been frustrated with himself that he couldn’t seem to pull his shit together. It had taken everything to keep my mouth shut. I might have been avoiding him, but I’d still noticed the way he’d been working himself to the point of exhaustion—bouncing between practice and coursework and whatever tasks his family were sending him, and all the while squeezing in shifts at the cafe.

The guy needed to learn to say no—especially where his family was concerned. I wasn’t completely heartless. I understood his father’s illness made it more difficult, but Grier wouldn’t be able to finish his final year without dropping from exhaustion at the rate he was going.

Not my problem, I told myself, turning my attention back to the words on the screen in front of me. Who the hell was I kidding?

“Fuck it.” I grabbed up my phone and started typing before I could reason myself out of it.

How was the game?

As I was setting my phone down, I noticed the ellipses showing he was responding pulsate on the screen. I waited, half-surprised he was answering so quickly.

Not great. We lost. I missed an easy shot.

In my mind, I could see his face as if he was standing in front of me, expression tight with guilt and self-recrimination. What was it about him that caused him to blame himself and take responsibility for everything that went wrong? Maybe hehadmissed a shot, but the loss wouldn’t have solely been his fault. He was one man on a team of… well, I wasn’t sure exactly. I didn’t know how many people actually play on a soccer team. Still, I knew enough to know there were enough people on the team to cover him if he was having a bad night.

I started typing something trite and unhelpful, something likeI’m sure you did your best, but stopped, deleted it, then just typed,Can I call you?

After a moment, he responded,Sure.

I left my desk and went to my room, flopping back onto my bed before I hit Grier’s number. After a single ring, he answered. “Hey.”

“You okay?” I asked, leaning back against the pillows and stretching my legs over the duvet.

“Umm… yeah, sure.” He sounded strange, uncertain. Not that I blamed him. He probably wasn’t sure why I was calling after I’d spent the better part of the week avoiding him. “Just a lousy day. I played like shit.”

“Everybody has an off day,” I said. The words didn’t sound any less trite when spoken aloud rather than sending them by text, and I wished I could say or do something to get him out of his head.

“It’s been more like an off month for me.”

Because you’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks, but I kept that thought to myself. Instead, I changed the subject.

“So, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said carefully. “You know I’m back tomorrow if you want to wait and talk in person.”

“No, it’s fine. I think this will be easier over the phone.” Then I wouldn’t be able to see his face while I made a complete fool of myself. “I don’t know if you noticed, but things have been kind of weird between us over the last week.”

“I noticed,” he said, voice turning strangely flat.

“Yeah, so that was my fault. I know what we’re doing is just supposed to be sex, but I think… well, I know actually… I kind of like you… in a more than just a guy-I’m-having-sex-with way.”What the hell was wrong with me?I sounded like a preteen with his first crush. Why didn’t I just wait for him to come and pass him a note that said,Do you like me? Circle yes or no.

Silence stretched between us. Panic squeezed my chest like a steel band. Shit, I should have kept my big mouth shut. I started to tell him it wasn’t a big deal and not to worry about it, but he cut me off before I could get the words out.

“Me too. I mean, I like you too,” he said.

The tension gripping me loosened, draining away as though someone had pulled a plug. I sagged into my pillows and grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Grier said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Fuck, I wish you were here.”

“Me too.” He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What would you do if Iwerethere?”

I immediately perked up, mentally and physically. “What would you want me to do?”

“Whatever you wanted, I guess. You’re the one who knows what he’s doing, after all.” His voice had turned low and husky, turning me hot and achy inside.

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