Page 55 of The Cabin

“Do you think I understand how the male brain works? Hell no. One of the many reasons I’m into pretty much anyone who isn’t a cisgendered man.”

“Lucky you.”

She chuckles. “He’s got it bad. And by the looks of it, so do you.” Her and her damn eyes that feel like they split me open and let the whole world see my deepest darkest secrets.

“Agree to disagree.” It’s mostly to myself, but she scoffs playfully at me anyway, standing up and reaching out a hand.

“C’mon, drop me off at my house, I have a feeling your babysitter is gonna ground you for life.”

—

I’ve been sitting in the truck, keys out, headlights off for what I’m assuming has been a pretty long time. As much as I am proud of my brand new, super fragile confidence, I am not at all equipped to deal with the consequences of the things I do when taken over by it.

I stole a truck. I stole Grayson’s truck. And then when he was probably pissed, because, you know, I stole his truck, and worried, because, you know, I don’t have a phone and he thinks I’m a baby duckling who needs its mama, I send him a picture of me making out with the girl we were fighting over last night. There can’t possibly be any negative repercussions for those things, right?

I definitely don’t want to face any of the accusations Jade made. And I am certainly not ready to talk about the fact that I had a really gorgeous girl kissing me and all I could think about was Grayson. That feels like a bigger crime than all the others combined. A crime against smart, sensible, logical people all across the planet.

But the sun is fading, and I have yet to shake the ‘I’m going to get killed out here’ thoughts I get when I’m in the woods at night. I need to go inside. I need to be an adult. The only real thing I did that wasn’t okay was take his truck without asking. And maybe losing my cool and getting weird last night. The rest I just feel goes against my own ethics. And that’s for me to deal with at a later date. One fire at a time.

With a deep, steadying breath that doesn’t help even the tiniest bit, I jump out of the truck and run to the cabin. (Someone could be trying to get me!)

When I open the door, I don’t see Grayson right away (big relief) and go to hang his keys back up where they go. The keys jingle on their hook and I look into the kitchen to see if there’s some cleaning I can do. Butter him up, right? Actually, that will probably do the opposite of buttering him up. He hates when I clean. What is the opposite of buttering up? Buttering down? I don’t like that.

A weird warmth squeezes my heart as a big ol’ helping of guilt drops into my stomach. There’s a sticky note on the microwave. ‘Heat for 3 minutes.Sorry about…everything.’ I am a horrible person. I am a yucky, yucky person. It would’ve been fine if I had just taken the truck to blow off some steam. It probably would’ve been fine if I had just answered Jade’s phone and let him know I was okay. But the picture? I’m a bitch.

I check what’s inside and internally groan. Maybe externally too.

It’s croquetas. My mom used to make them all the time growing up because it reminded her of her time in Spain. I mentioned how much I missed them during one of our random talks that just kind of happen as a result of living with each other. He would’ve had to go out and buy special ingredients to make these. He would’ve had to look it up and study someone doing it in a video. God! Why does he have to do shit like this? He is single handedly the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful and ridiculous, short tempered, irrational man I’ve ever had the pleasure (displeasure?) of meeting!

I let my head bang into the door of the microwave while I silently hope lightning will strike me so I don’t have to figure out any of these feelings or understand any of the events in the last twenty-four hours. In the last two weeks, honestly.

Time to do my walk of shame.

The barn door is just barely cracked when I reach the bedroom. I slide it open a tiny bit to find Grayson sleeping on the right side of the bed, hair tousled, pajama pants hung low on his hips. No matter what other stuff I’m going to pretend didn’t happen or doesn’t exist, I cannot deny the pull I feel towards him. Whether it’s to bicker or fight or laugh or talk or get under his skin or just be quiet together.

He looks so peaceful. Nothing like how he looks when he’s dealing with me.

I watch for a few more moments. To me it feels sweet, but to someone else it might be creepy, so I move to close the door back up and set myself up on the couch.

Just before it’s all the way shut I hear, “Sol?” Damnit. So close.

Sliding the door back open enough to lean against the side, I whisper, “Hi.”

He yawns and sits up a little, holding himself up on one arm. Unfortunately, he looks like a Calvin Klein model. “Are you just getting back?” He rubs a hand down his face, sleepy, and groggy, and cute, and all freaking precious.

“Mm. I was back a while ago but I was hiding out in the truck.” The corner of my lips turns up.

He gives me a soft chuckle. “Did you see my note?” Just rip my heart out, it would be so much easier.

I frown, embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes. Thank you.” An even quieter whisper. He pats the spot next to him on the bed. Oh. Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. Accountability is not really my thing and I do not want to have a grown-up talk about this. Like, at all. I should, but I don’t wanna.

I pad over anyway, climbing up and leaning against the headboard with my feet crossed.

“Can we talk?” he asks. I look over at him. His face is open, calm. I nod. “I’m sorry about last night. I got carried away and that wasn’t fair to you. That’s why I left this morning. I didn't know how to be in the same space as you.”

“I’m the one who pushed. And pushed…and pushed. I put the phone in my leggings.” My head lays back, eyes focused on the ceiling.

“I shouldn’t have freaked out over you wanting to text Jade.” He says it through his teeth, clearly not quite onboard with this part of the apology.

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