Page 32 of Crash and Burn
"Hey!" I called out, walking over with that skip still in my step. "You're here early, too?"
"Yeah." Grant's expression was downcast, and his hair wasn't so neatly styled, the ends curling around his ear in disarray. He avoided my eyes as he swiped along the counter using the cleaning rag.
Alarms blared in my head.
"How's it going?" I asked, examining him carefully.
"Not bad."
His answer was short, but not curt. The corners of his lips turned down into a frown as he scrubbed at a single spot. It reminded me of myself, when I used to work the same stain over and over again when I was upset at Manny's.
"Is something wrong?" I said. "Tell me what's up."
"It's not a big deal," he said.
I reached across the counter and put a hand on his, stilling his movements. His fingers were warm, and strong, and I could imagine him turning over his palm and entwining our fingers together. I quickly removed my hand, leaving a tingling sensation where our skin had touched.
I pushed my hair back over my shoulders and cleared my throat.
"You know I'm not going to accept that as an answer," I told him. "I hate seeing you look upset."
Grant put down the rag and leaned against the counter.
"Missy and I broke up," he said without preamble.
I should have felt guilty about the joy and relief that rose up in my chest at his announcement. I should have, but didn't.
"I'm sorry," I said. "That sucks."
He lifted a shoulder.
"It wouldn't have worked out in the long run anyway," he said.
"Was it because of what you mentioned before?" I asked.
"I did what you said," Grant replied. "I tried to talk to her about a compromise. But she just got more and more upset." He let out a heavy breath and rubbed a hand over his smoothly-shaven jaw. It was too early in the day to be stubbled. "In the end she was yelling at me and saying things…" he trailed off.
"What kind of things?" I asked.
Grant met my eyes briefly, an awkward expression crossing his face.
"Just things," he said vaguely. "She took what I was saying and twisted it into something else. I guess she wasn't really wrong," he mumbled quietly.
As much as my selfish heart was gleeful over their breakup, I hated the kicked puppy look on Grant's face. I ducked under the counter until we were on the same side and put my hand on his arm.
"I'm sorry things didn't work out between you," I said. "She seemed like a nice girl."
"She was always smiling," Grant said. "Always so positive. I like that in a person."
"It's more fun to look on the bright side," I agreed.
"Maybe that's why I liked her so much," he said. "She reminded me of you."
My heart stuttered. Grant's eyes shone with sincerity. The muscles in his strong forearm shifted under my hand. I was acutely aware of my fingertips pressing into his skin.
We were standing so close together. The space behind the counter was compact. We were nearly toe to toe. Grant was so tall. I had to crane my neck up to face him or else my eyes would only be level with his chest.
A broad chest that was rising and falling rapidly now with every breath he took.
