Page 32 of Reviving Kendall

“I didn’t say I don’t like them,” I retort, smiling. “I just never seem to have the time.”

He grins wickedly at me, “Seems to me that you’ve got the next couple days free. Nowhere near enough time to catch up, but you can squeeze some of the good ones in.”

I don’t think that I’m coming away from this without at least agreeing. If I watch them or not, now that’s another matter by itself. “Ok, fine,” I say dramatically. “But only if you’ll tell me what your real name is.”

“See if you can guess,” he teases.

There’s a million names that it could be, “Don’t I get a hint?”

He pretends to think on it for a second, “Ok. It starts with the same letter as Goose.”

“Hmmm,” I watch his face as I start guessing, “Greg. Gerald. Gus.” I say the last one as a joke, and get the pleasure of watching his nose turn up at it. He definitely doesn’t look like a Gus. “Can I have another hint?” I beg.

Laughing he says, “There’s a pretty famous actor that has my name as his last.”

“That’s not fair,” I complain. “I don’t watch enough movies to know that.”

He shrugs, “Keep guessing then.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I think really hard on G names. When I open them, I find Goose watching me with a look that says he wishes he wasn’t driving. Fidgeting, I tuck loose strands of my hair behind my ear. Shit. I forgot to brush it and put it up. I try to smooth it down and hope like hell there’s a brush somewhere in his bathroom.

“Do you give up?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes at him, “Never. I was just thinking. Gabriel. George. Glenn. Grant. Gordon.” One of the last ones makes him smile. Score! “Is it Gordon?” I ask.

He shakes his head, and I try again, “Grant?”

This makes him smile, “Yep.”

“That’s pretty cool. I like that name,” I confess.

He winks at me, and it makes the butterflies go crazy in my stomach, “I was named after my dad and he was named after my grandfather, so I’m Grant Michaels the third.”

“Well, you do it justice,” I say without thinking.

We come to a stop, and he turns to look at me, “Is that so?”

I feel my cheeks get warm, “Well yeah, you’re a big football star, and I’m sure you’ll be giving the other guys in college a run for their money.”

He grins over at me, and puts the truck in park, “We’re here.”

Here, turns out to be a massive house right smack in the middle of the suburbs. I wasn’t too far off with my assumptions, even though I feel bad for that now. His house isn’t as big as Teagan’s, but it’s got this antique look about it that makes it just as impressive. It looks like one of those old Dutch Colonial houses.

“Your house is beautiful,” I say meeting him at the front of the truck.

He glances at it, and then turns back to me, “Yeah, it’s nice. I’m just ready to get out of it.”

I know my face must show the confusion that I feel, and he sighs, “Sorry. I’m not trying to come off as this spoiled rich dick. There’s just a story behind it that I’ll tell you some day.”

“We have time today, if you want,” I offer as we walk up the steps.

He’s one step up from me when he stops and looks down to me, “We’ll save it. I want today to be a good day.”

I can understand that, so I nod, and we make our way into the house. With the way that the outside looked, I fully expect it to be stuffed full of rich people junk. I’m surprised to find that I’m wrong. The furniture is very scarce, and everything is pure white. The living room to the left has two little loveseat looking things in front of a fireplace, and over to the right is a dining room, complete with white carpets and a light wood table. As I look around, I see that there aren’t any family pictures hanging up or sitting anywhere. I find that odd, but don’t comment.

“Want something to drink?” he asks, and I nod.

We walk into the kitchen, and it’s the same as the other rooms. Pure white, everywhere you look. I couldn’t even imagine cooking in here. I’d be too scared that I’d stain something.

---