Page 67 of Praised
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled, rolling a rock underneath the peeling sole of my black sneaker.
“Can I level with you?” he asked.
“Please do.”
“Flynn is a friend of mine. I don’t know him as well as my boyfriend does, but I know him well enough to know that the way he was acting a month ago is not the way he’s acting now, and the only difference in the timeline is you.”
“Acting how?” It was hard to get the words out because watching and listening to Grayson was like seeing myself dream cast in a movie. He was the kind of person I’d always wanted to be. Bold and confident, even though he wasn’t stacked like a body builder. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little money, but he didn’t seem like the kind to flaunt it the way Flynn sometimes did, even if unintentional.
The lace between my legs brushed against my soft cock as a reminder of that.
“Not himself.” Grayson tapped his temple, then his chest. “All tangled up over the curly-haired little angel who won’t give him the time of day.”
“I give him plenty of time,” I said.
“When?”
I swiveled toward him, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
“When do you give him time?”
I knew there was nuance to the question. Grayson wasn’t calling into question the number of hours I spent with Flynn, but the timing of those hours. A flash of shame heated my cheeks and I turned away.
“Weekends,” I answered. “At night. But that’s all he wants from me. That’s all—”
“Thirty days, right?”
I covered my face with both hands, pressing my fingertips into my closed eyelids and then swiping down my face. “That’s what he said.”
“He wants more.”
Grayson said it so quickly, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. But I tamped down the spark of hope that fizzled in my chest because I didn’t know this man from Adam and who knew what his intentions with the conversation were.
“More…?”
“More than nighttime. More than thirty days. More than half-commitments.”
“Then why is that what he asked for?” I knew why. It was a compromise that would get him me, and he had been willing to take pieces and bits if he couldn’t get the whole thing.
I stretched my legs out and let my ankles drag through the alley gravel. Grayson’s sneakers were so crisp and white, I wasn’t sure he’d ever worn them before coming to see me. I was so out of my league with him, with Flynn, with all of them.
“Are you for real right now? Are you always like this?” Grayson stood and dusted off the backside of his khakis, turning to face me with his arms once again crossed in front of his chest. His attitude had changed from when I’d stepped into the alley. Where he’d started as agreeable and friendly, everything had shifted toward protection and defense.
I nodded, looking down at my lap as the fight went out of me.
“Why?” he asked. “I mean, is this how you treat Flynn? Because I can’t imagine why he’d keep coming back for more ofthis.”
“Hey.” I stood and brushed my pants off, stepping toward him with my hands balled into fists at my sides. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you,” he spat back at me. “I came by because Flynn was all torn up over how bad he wants you and I wanted to help him out, but I really just don’t see it.”
I worked my jaw back and forth, but didn’t say anything in response to Grayson. Mostly because I didn’t know what to say. I was being unfair and defensive, I knew it. But it wasn’t something I could simply reprogram or turn off. Giving Flynn a chance would have been a hell of a lot easier if I could.
“Is it him?” Grayson asked, pacing himself in a small circle like he wasn’t quite ready to give up on me yet. “Is it the money?”
“The money’s part of it,” I admitted.
“Listen, Ambrose—” he started in again, but I cut him off.
