Page 151 of Just for the Cameras
Bennett:Did she talk to you at all?
Graydon:She did. She thanked me in person.
OC:How? With a hug?
Graydon:With her words and a slight smile.
Bennett:That’s all we need. She opened the door. The grand gesture worked. Now you have to go apologize. Take it from me.
OC:Yeah, remember, he’s reading those romance books. I think he might know what he’s talking about.
Graydon:So I’m just supposed to apologize to her tomorrow?
OC:Maybe take her coffee and flowers or something.
Graydon:She hates flowers.
Bennett:No, you’re not going to wait till morning. You’re going to go to her place tonight. Strike while the iron is hot.
Graydon:What if Slutty Little Glasses is there?
OC:Ooh, a painful obstacle.
Bennett:Then you wait. Tell her you will wait because what you need to say is important.
OC:Authoritative but respectful. Nice approach.
Graydon:Will you shut the fuck up with your useless commentary?
OC:Respect the group. Everyone gets to shine in the Gladdy Daddies.
Graydon:I actually hate you, truly, truly hate you.
OC:If I knew you weren’t so down on your luck right now, I might take offense to that, but I know you love me. Nice try.
Graydon:Christ.
Bennett:Focus. Graydon, go to her place and apologize, give her the biggest apology of your life, and while you’re at it, end the mind games and tell her how you feel.
Graydon:I wasn’t playing mind games.
Bennett:Maybe you didn’t think you were, but she needs answers and deserves them. If you want to make her yours, then fucking do it. Now.
OC:Is it weird that while reading that, my nipples got hard?
Bennett:Seriously, dude, no one is going to want to talk to you anymore.
Graydon:I second that.
I glance around the street, looking for that piece-of-shit Jeep, and whenI don’t see it, relief floods me because I don’t know what I wouldhave done if he was here, in her apartment, doing fuck knows what with her.
I find a parking spot down the block because parking is a bitch sometimes, and I walk up to her apartment, my nerves tumbling inside me as I try to figure out the words I want to use.
Unfortunately, nothing eloquent comes to mind.
I make it up her stairs and then down the hallway to her apartment, where I take a deep breath and then knock on her door. I stuff my hands in my pockets and wait, steeling myself, reminding myself to be calm and honest.
If I’m going to change the course of this “relationship,” then this is the moment.
