Page 7 of Until You

“Dinner… me and you?”

I glance at Brad and purse my lips, a hint of uneasiness making me hesitate. “And Brad,” I say, my voice soft.

Gray is silent, and I swallow hard as I wait for his reply. My heart is beating in my throat, and for a second I’m certain he’ll say no. Part of me hopes he does. That way my conscience won’t weigh so heavily on me.

“Was this your idea or his?”

How… how does he know? “Gray, you and I always hang out when you visit. You don’t want to?”

He sighs, and guilt settles in the pit of my stomach, weighing on me. “You’re evading my question, Aria. Was it your idea?”

“I… no, Gray.”

“And this, me having dinner with you both, it matters to you?”

I hesitate. Part of me wants to say no. I don’t want Gray doing anything he doesn’t want to do, and I know he’ll do this for me if I ask him to. He’ll do it, but I doubt he’ll enjoy it. I glance at Brad, and the hope in his eyes fills me with resignation. Having dinner with Gray could change everything for us. I could get my dream job and Brad could move with me. Working for Gray would definitely be a good career move for Brad, too.

“It does, Gray,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs, falling silent for a moment. “You’ll cook for me?”

“I’ll make your favorite.”.

“You still remember what that is?”

I smile. Like I could ever forget. “Always, Gray.”

“Hmm… at least you’ll feed me a homemade meal while your boyfriend feeds me bullshit. Done. I’ll see you at seven?”

I bite back a smile. “See you at seven, Gray.”

Brad fist pumps and mouths ‘Yes!’ as I end the call. I should be happy that Gray agreed, but somehow, I’m left wishing he hadn’t.

5

Grayson

I pause in front of Aria’s apartment, dreading the dinner I’m about to be forced to sit through. Even after all these years, I can’t deny her anything. She’s no longer the teenager she was when I first met her, but I still want her to have everything her heart desires. Even if that means sitting through an evening of Sleazy sucking up to me.

I inhale deeply and raise my hand to knock. The door swings open a second later, and I can’t tell whether I’m amused or annoyed to find Brad standing in front of me. I glance at his hair, suppressing my frown. How? How does it stay like that? Seriously, what does he put in it?

“Grayson, my man,” he says, taking a step closer to me. I take a step back. The fuck does he want to do? Hug me? I barely even know the guy.

His expression falls, and he straightens awkwardly as he opens the door wider. “Please, come in.”

I nod and follow him in, my eyes taking in every detail. The place is small, and it’s old, but it’s got character. Aria’s signature touch is all over the place. There’s color everywhere, but somehow, she makes it work. Where I’m all black and white, Aria is everything in between. She always has been.

“Ah, this shabby little place probably isn’t what you’re used to,” Brad says. “I told Aria it’d be better to eat out, but she was being stubborn tonight. I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through one of Aria’s meals.”

I clench my jaw. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does this guy not realize how lucky he is that she makes him food at all? That she spends time and effort, putting endless love and care in every dish he has the honor to eat? Fucking asshole.

“I insisted.”

He blinks, confused, and I sigh. Of course he’s a fucking dumbass, unable to comprehend a simple response.

Relief washes over me when I hear Aria’s laughter. I turn to find her standing in the kitchen doorway, an apron tied around her waist, her hair in a bun and her feet bare. She looks cute, and those eyes of hers are twinkling with that expression that’s uniquely hers: mischief and provocation.

“Gray,” she admonishes. “Full sentences, please.”

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