Page 44 of Deceiving Grier

Me, on the other hand, didn’t give a shit.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep if that’s okay?” I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I wanted to get into bed, pull the covers over my head and pretend today had never happened, but it did, and I had no idea how to move forward now.

Chapter Eighteen

Sawyer

“Mr.Banks,couldIhave a word?”

At the sound of my name, I stopped gathering things next to my seat. My News Writing professor stood at the front of the classroom watching me expectantly.

Shit, what didhewant?Maybe he’d correctly guessed that I’d been completely checked out for the past hour. Maybe he knew almost nothing he’d said during his lecture had registered, and now he was going to rip me a new one for it.

I gave the man a slight nod, then tossed my messenger bag over my shoulder, grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair, and made my way up to the front of the classroom.

For the most part, I liked the man. Tom Olson had worked in both print and broadcast news before going into teaching, and I’d learned a lot from him over the last four years. A few inches shorter than me, he was probably somewhere in his fifties with messy gray hair and a perpetually rumpled look, as if he slept in his clothes. His thick glasses always sat slightly askew.

I’d never really had any issues with him since I’d started school, but I’d also never spent the better part of his class watching the dark clouds swirling outside the window or the rain pelting the glass all while I tried thinking of ways to convince Grier to talk to me again after lying to him for over two months.

Just one more shitty thing to add to my shitty day in what was destined to be a shitty week. I should have just stayed home.

Last night, I hadn’t slept, really. I stared up at the ceiling while thoughts spun in my head like a tornado made up of images of how badly I had handled things with Grier. I’d finally drifted off around four, and now, no matter how much coffee I downed, I couldn’t stop dragging my ass.

Somehow, I’d made it to my 8:30 a.m. News Writing class, but by the time I dropped into my usual seat at the back of the room, I was wishing I just stayed home. The rainy weather and lack of sleep had resulted in a steady throb beating behind my forehead. Nothing from the lecture was sinking in, anyway.

The not sleeping hadn’t been exclusive to last night, either. Since Grier stormed out Friday night, I hadn’t slept properly. I went through my days like a zombie—going to classes, newspaper roster meetings, and covering stories as if functioning on pure muscle memory but without really connecting with anyone or anything around me.

Even when I tried to focus and my thoughts pushed Grier to the far corner of my mind, he still somehow drifted to the forefront along with how badly I’d screwed things up.

It didn’t help that even five days later, I still hadn’t spoken to him. Hell, the last time I’d seen him was Friday night when he’d crossed the street and gone inside Alistair and Finn’s house.

I’d waited up for him to come home. A part of me wondered if he’d come back with Alistair and Finn in tow to boot my ass out. No more than I deserved, really.

He didn’t though, and since then he’d been doing an impressive job of avoiding me. Even while I’d been trying to catch him between classes and work. I had toyed with the idea of showing up at the café when I knew he had a shift, but I didn’t want to corner him while he was at work. I didn’t think he’d appreciate the possibility of a scene at his workplace, and I didn’t want to risk pissing him off any more than I already had. Still, I hadn’t completely given up on the idea, especially if things kept going the way they were, but for now, I was filing it underlast resort.

Last night, I finally made my way upstairs to his bedroom and knocked lightly on his door. There was no response. I was sure he was home—despite having not laid eyes on him in person for nearly a week. There were clues of his presence throughout the house, so I knew he’d come back from Alistair’s and Finn’s—his shoes neatly set aside in the front hall, my dishes from the morning I had left in the sink magically washed and set out to dry in the rack before I could wash them myself.

“Can I talk to you?” I’d asked from outside his door. But the door didn’t open and there’d been no answer, no hint of movement from inside his room.

This couldn’t go on forever. Even beyond what had been going on between us, we still shared a house. Grier and Jett had yet to throw me out. Iwasfairly certain Jett knew about me and the reason I’d rented the room. Normally, when I spoke to him, I couldn’t shut the guy up, but since Friday, he’d barely spoken a half dozen words to me. Surely, Grier couldn’t avoid me entirely for the next seven months until school finished. Though he’d been surprisingly successful so far.

I honestly did not know what to do. Should I barge into his room, drag him out and force a conversation? Apologize again. I hated him thinking I’d only been with him to get answers for a story. Should I just give him his space? Let him come to me when he was ready? Though, let’s face it, there was a better than good chance he never would be.

At the front of the classroom, I did my best to shove my tumultuous thoughts to the back of my mind and focus on Olson. He nodded to the nearest seat while waiting for the last stragglers from my class to trickle out. I sat in the chair he’d indicated while he leaned back against the table opposite me. He folded his arms over his chest and said, “You’re doing very well in this class.”

I tensed, waiting for the inevitable‘but’. Instead, he continued, “Anything I’ve thrown at you, you’ve handled like a pro. I’m really pleased with the work you’ve been doing.”

“Thanks,” I said, the tension loosening now that I’d realized I wasn’t about to have my ass handed to me.

“What are your plans for next year?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I figured I’d head to New York, get a job at one of the dailies.”

Though, my Oliver Mackenzie story was dead in the water, along with my hopes of having something that would help me stand out from the crowd of other journalism graduates with the same plan.

Strangely, I wasn’t even all that broken up about the story. With everything else going on, it felt like a minor inconvenience compared to the nearly insurmountable task of convincing Grier to forgive me.

“Have you ever considered staying here in Oregon?” Olson asked.

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