Page 19 of Imperfect Cadence
We eased into a surprisingly comfortable routine. Gray seamlessly became a constant presence in every free moment we had outside of school and work hours. From whipping up breakfast to chauffeuring me to work after school and crafting dinners tailored to my exact toddler-like tastes, his level of consideration both amazed me and, in a peculiar way, unsettled me.
Our conversations at home stretched for what felt like hours, and I marveled at Gray’s ability to recall even the most inconsequential details, like my insistence that ketchup is a food group that belongs with every single meal. He didn’t just remember the little things; he determined which seemingly unimportant bits of information were significant moments to me. Like the childhood memory I had accidentally shared about playing Mario Kart at my friend Jake’s house, one of the few happy times I could remember as a kid, and an anecdote I never expected him to commit to memory. A lump formed in my throat as we sat down after dinner the following day, and he pulled out a copy of the exact same game from his backpack—a gesture that meant more than he could possibly understand.
Expressing my gratitude, on the other hand, proved to be a struggle, a hurdle I was determined to surmount for his sake. Even though discussing emotions made my skin crawl, I wanted to convey my appreciation to Gray.
So, one night, I mustered the courage to ask him if he wanted to start a new series on Netflix with me. A juncture that marked the inception, the turning point of a relationship that felt inconceivable just six months prior. It immediately became a comforting routine, something we both eagerly anticipated at the end of our hectic days. I lost track of the number of shows we watched, engaging in discussions with an ease I had never experienced with anyone else. When baseball season kicked off, much to my own surprise, I found myself in the stands, cheering along with the rest of the town.
The more I got to know Gray, the gentle soul who could make me laugh like nobody else, the more my desires grew. Yet, it seemed like Gray had intentionally been keeping his physical distance, as a way to keep his promise not to make me feel uncomfortable or pressured. Either that, or his earlier declarations of attraction were fleeting emotions for him, as he never once made a move to suggest he saw me as anything more than a friend. Despite sitting close enough on the sofa that I could feel his body heat through my thin sweater, Gray kept things strictly PG.
He never even attempted to make a move. At night, when he declared his intention to go to bed, a kiss on the cheek was all he offered before turning away and heading to his room. Too often, I found myself standing there, staring at his closed bedroom door, contemplating what would happen if I were the one to make the first move.
The next morning, I’d inevitably wake up alone, almost regretting the night free from nightmares—a phenomenon occurring more frequently the longer I stayed in the safety of Gray’s home, until they vanished completely, both a blessing and a curse. The memory of his warmth pressed against me lingered as a phantom sensation across my skin, an indelible mark impossible to forget. I could see how easily I might become addicted to it.
∞∞∞
Grayson
Lord, please bless me with the strength…
I glanced heavenward as I willed my dick to—Calm.The. Fuck.Down.
Beside me, Colt leaned in, reaching for a handful of popcorn on the coffee table in front of us, and I was once again enveloped in his intoxicating woodsy scent. My stubborn cock refused to accept that Colt wasn’t interested in us that way, and little Gray needed to get with the program.
I had made Colt a promise—that he should never feel guilty if he turned me down—and I’d be damned if I went back on my word. We were friends. Good friends, and I genuinely cherished our time together. It didn’t matter that the deeper I delved into the person beneath the tough exterior, the more I found myself falling irrevocably in love with him. Not once had he hinted at reciprocating even a fraction of those same affections.
So getting hard on the sofa while we watched the latest season of a trashy, but completely addictive real estate reality TV show, would be a big no no.
We’d come leaps and bounds in terms of him opening up to me, and I’d willingly go to any lengths to maintain that trust. Especially since it became increasingly apparent that, aside from his surprisingly close connection with Brenda, I was the only person he didn’t actively antagonize.
On Monday morning, Remy assumed his role as our chauffeur to school, a routine occurrence by this point. Colt never concealed his displeasure at Remy’s presence in our lives. “Looking sharp as always, Rem,” he quipped sarcastically as Remy strolled through the door in a particularly loud orange gingham shirt that clashed spectacularly with his red flannel jacket. I adored my best friend, but dear Lord, his fashion sense occasionally made my eyes burn, which meant I failed to suppress my snort at Colt’s dig.
Remy whipped around to face me, a frown creasing his brow. “Is he making fun of me again?”
Colt couldn’t help himself, laughing obnoxiously. “If ignorance is bliss, you must be ecstatic at all times, bud,” he retorted, making his way out to the car without bothering to wait for us.
Remy shot me “the look.” You know, the one that conveyed his strong disapproval of my life choices. “Seriously, what do you see in that guy?” he grumbled.
Everything. But there was no need to explain to Remy how Colt’s shy smiles when I walked him to his first class every day made my heart race, or how remarkably sweet he could be when he was falling asleep on the sofa after a long day and would deliriously answer my ridiculous questions with all the openness he tried so hard to suppress.
∞∞∞
On my way to lunch, the realization hit me that I had forgotten to pack our lunches that morning. Typically, I took charge of organizing our meals, knowing that if I didn’t send Colt to school with a packed lunch, he probably wouldn’t eat anything. It had become my mission to help Colt reach a healthy weight range, although given the number of cookies he devoured at Brenda’s these days, it seemed I might be fighting a losing battle against his genetics.
I halted when I reached the cafeteria doors, hesitating. I had made a serious effort to respect Colt’s wishes, allowing him to navigate the school grounds on his own after escorting him to first period. After all, he had spent months explicitly telling me to get lost, and I no longer wanted to be a pushy asshole. If I were being honest, I felt ashamed of my actions. My attraction to Colt had blinded me to the fact that he was saying no, and I had chosen to ignore that, convinced I could change his mind if he just got to know me. The memory of the moment when I realized he legitimately believed I would kick him out if he didn’t sleep with me made me feel sick to my stomach.
I really didn’t want to slip back into that kind of behavior, even unintentionally, so I made a conscious effort to maintain my distance when we weren’t at home. Then, I felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over me. “It’s just lunch,” I reminded myself. We were friends now, and we had dinner together every night. Why should having lunch together be a big deal?
As I approached the cafeteria line, I discreetly glanced over to the far-left corner of the room, where Colt usually ate alone, and my suspicions were confirmed. He had a Red Bull in front of him with no food in sight. With my mind made up, I piled two trays as high as physics would allow, fully aware that I’d devour anything Colt didn’t eat.
Colt practically jumped out of his seat when the tray I placed in front of him made a loud clattering noise against the plastic tabletop. I tried to act casual, as if I’d done this for him dozens of times before, sliding the tray closer to him to indicate I had bought the food for him. The reappearance of his formidable scowl, an expression that hadn’t been directed my way in weeks, suggested that I didn’t pull it off.
“What the fuck is this?” he protested, though his stomach betrayed him by growling at that exact moment.
I dove into my lunch right away to avoid eye contact. “I forgot to pack a lunch for us today,” I mumbled, speaking with a mouth full of food.
“Ugh, do you have to eat like a savage?” he asked, theatrically wiping his cheek.
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. I didn’t quite know what to make of the fact Colt was back to being distant now that we were surrounded by other people and not in the bubble we’d created for ourselves at home.
