Page 51 of Losing Sleep
After lunch, everyone claimed exhaustion and scattered to different parts of the cabin to either nap or read, with Trent and Tory slipping out to take a walk. I sat on the front porch, settling into one of the wooden rocking chairs with the book I’d been attempting to read earlier. While I normally loved a good romance, I had a hard time focusing on the storyline, my thoughts bouncing between my conversation with Tory on the river and my attraction to Grey.
What did Tory mean when she said she’d never pictured me in an office job? I’d spent five years getting a business degree. Whatelse did she think I’d do with it? Yet, hadn’t I been having similar thoughts? Especially now that Drew was my supervisor.
What did I want out of thisthingwith Grey? I claimed not to be interested in dating him, but then I became frustrated when Kylie monopolized his time.
Topping the list of questions was simply the word: why? Why did I care what Tory thought about my career choice? Why did I care if Grey talked to Kylie and not me? Why was I letting any of this bother me and take over my mental space?
Frustrated, I slammed the book closed and went into the cabin, tossing the book onto my bed. I changed into leggings and a tank top, pulling my hair into a high ponytail. There wasn’t really room in my bedroom to do yoga, but I’d make it work. No one was currently in the living room, but I didn’t want to risk anyone sneaking up on me again. I’d had more than my fill of Grey seeing me in awkward positions.
The first part of my flow went smoothly enough as I focused on my breathing and did a few cat/cows, arching and curving my back to warm up my muscles. I selected poses I knew wouldn’t take up much room, forcing my mind to stay in the moment. Unfortunately, the limited movement didn’t do the trick. With each pose, I found my frustration growing, until finally, I threw my arms out in anger. Instead of relieving my pent-up emotions, I whacked my elbow on the bed post.
“Dang it!” I yelled, bringing my arm close to my chest and rubbing the tender spot. I sank onto the floor cross-legged, trying to breathe through the pain. I’d have a bruise tomorrow.
A knock sounded on my door before it cracked open slightly.
“Everything okay in here?” Grey poked his head into the room. “I was on the phone with my brother and mom in the living room and heard a shout.”
I groaned, rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. Of course it would be him.
“That doesn’t sound encouraging.” Grey came the rest of the way into the room, closing the door behind him and settling onto my bed. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” I threw my non-injured arm over my face, trying to block out the world.
“Are you sure? Because the sound I heard earlier makes me think you could use someone to talk to.” Grey’s tone was gentle, encouraging me to speak.
I hesitated, studying his face and reading the genuine concern furrowing his brow. It would be nice to talk to someone about my jumbled thoughts. Unable to discuss one of my issues with the source of the struggle, I decided instead to bring up my career woes. I leaned onto my uninjured elbow so I could see him better.
“Just pondering the meaning of life and wondering if I’m living mine to the fullest.”
“Deep.” Grey bobbed his head. “In any area in particular? Or are you talking about life in general?”
I quirked a smile. “I should probably examine all areas, but today I’m focusing on career choices.”
“I see. I also find vacation, when I’m far from all responsibilities, the best time to ponder my career trajectory.” He stroked his beard, a faux serious expression on his face. “Tell me more.”
I snorted, dropping back onto the ground. “Why do I feel like I’ve just signed up for the most unorthodox therapy session in the history of the world?”
“Tell Dr. Grey your problems. I’m here to help.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Also, wouldn’t it be Dr. Whatever-your-last-name-is? What is your last name?”
“Nice! I’m here, ready to provide sage wisdom, and you don’t even know my last name.” Grey’s face pinched into anexpression of mock hurt, but the twinkle in his eye hinted at mischief lurking beneath the surface.
“Do you know my last name?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a secret,” Grey said, his cheek twitching as he attempted to keep a serious expression.
“Why would my last name be a secret?” I swallowed down a laugh and raised an eyebrow, waiting to hear his logic.
“Because,” he stammered, “I don’t want to make you feel bad for not knowing my last name.”
“That’s sweet, but I promise I’ll survive. What’s my last name?” I pushed to my feet and stood in front of Grey, hands on hips. I could feel my hair falling out of its ponytail, likely giving me a crazy halo, but I refused to be distracted.
Instead of responding, Grey snatched a pillow from the bed and threw it behind me. “What was that?”
