Page 21 of Imperfect Cadence
As we approached the door, Gray gave me his signature goofy grin and turned to leave. The unthinkable happened: I grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards me. Surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly turned into a smile as he pulled me into a tight embrace.
“I’ll only be gone for a couple hours, and then I’ll be right back here. Okay?” Gray murmured in my ear.
Coming from anyone else, the reassurance might have sounded condescending, an acknowledgment of my blatant neediness. But not from Gray. Not from my Gray. His words carried a gentleness that made it clear he meant them as a comfort. Combined with the evident happiness in his expression, I almost believed he was as excited to see me again as I was to have him back.
We lingered in the hug for too long, simply embracing and inhaling each other. But all good things must end. After a few more minutes, Gray had to leave to avoid being late for practice.
“I’ll happily run laps for being late if I get to keep hugging you,” he joked.
“Don’t be stupid. You’ve told me how much of a hard ass Coach is. You see me every single day anyway.” I brushed off his words, although my face warmed.
“It still isn’t enough time,” he murmured as he reluctantly released me. As he let go, he kept hold of the hand I’d used to stop him and brought it to his lips.
The moment was so sweet that, for the first time, I felt the urge to show him where my head was at. To convey that this wasn’t one-sided. So I smiled back at him—not my usual smirk but a genuine, unguarded smile. I couldn’t articulate what was happening with words yet, but perhaps I was ready to let my actions speak for me. Starting by allowing myself to feel without shame. And the first order of business? Well, I may have ogled Gray’s perfectly rounded ass as he walked away from me.
Stepping into the under-equipped music room felt like returning home. The familiar scents of instruments and their cleaning products, the zen-like atmosphere, the tranquil silence before the magic unfolded. Kyle, perched atop one of the cabinets, casually held a joint, releasing a haze of smoke that filled the room. Officially we weren’t supposed to smoke in here, but Jed, also known as Mr. Collins, our music teacher during school hours, turned a blind eye once the final bell rang. We had free rein of the place, as long as we shared the goods with him when he dropped by.
Despite my aversion to drinking and drugs, weed was different. Contrary to conservative beliefs, marijuana isn’t a gateway drug. No one had ever overdosed on the devil’s lettuce. In fact, it was a lifeline for anxiety relief and the only thing I found, and was willing to take, that took the edge off. Unfortunately, unless Kyle was in a sharing mood, I couldn’t afford it when I needed it the most. Here’s hoping he felt generous today.
Jed hadn’t arrived yet, but he usually made an appearance at some point during our afternoon jam sessions. The aging music teacher sported a look that could pass for the strung-out lead singer of a thirty-year-old tribute band, that perhaps may have sounded good once before the decades of booze and pills took their toll. However, the man knew his shit, a surprising find in a small town like this. Despite being naturally talented at playing the guitar and having taught myself more than most, I found Jed not only helping me improve but also revealing new tricks I had never dreamed of. He served as a killer mentor, treating me as an equal rather than a delinquent kid—a refreshing departure from every other adult I’d encountered.
Had it not been for the fact he was a forty something divorcee couch surfing with his stoner buddies, I might have considered hitting him up for a place to crash instead of going home with Gray that fateful night.
Kyle actually happened to be Jed’s nephew. Another joy of small towns—everyone’s related. How people in this town don’t accidentally fuck their cousin remained a mystery to me. Although, now that I thought about it, it probably would explain a lot about certain people.
Kyle was a fashion tragedy, an eclectic mix of goth and cowboy. Yet, he killed it on the drums and happened to be the closest thing I had to a friend here—before Gray had turned my life upside down, that is.
Not that I’d really go so far as to call Kyle a friend. Our interactions usually consisted of occasional jam sessions followed by getting high and devouring our weight in Doritos from Jed’s secret stash in his bottom desk drawer to satisfy our munchies. Our conversations rarely extended beyond two-word responses, So imagine my surprise when he launched into an interrogation the second I propped my guitar case up on a desk.
“Dude, spill. What’s the deal with you and Grayson? I thought those rumors were bullshit, but I just saw you two getting all cozy outside.”
“None of your fucking business,” I snapped.
“Ooh, touchy,” he said, hands raised in a surrendering motion. “I’m just saying, what did you do to get the poster boy of good old fashioned values in this town to follow around a degenerate like you like a lovesick puppy? Did you suck his tiny jock brain out through his dick, and now he’s in love with you or some shit?” Kyle burst into laughter at his own joke.
I saw red. Moving faster than Kyle’s clouded mind could process, I had him pressed against the wall, my fist clenched in his ripped t-shirt. Granted, I had to stand up on my toes to reach him, but if he believed that meant I wouldn’t kick his ass, he was sorely mistaken.
“I’m going to say this once. Don’t fucking talk about Gray if you want to keep the ability to breathe through your nose. Got me? Say whatever crap you want about me, but don’t you dare say shit about him,” I spat in his face.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Looking at Gray standing next to me, you wouldn’t guess that he’d need someone like me to protect him. However, the more I got to know the gentle giant that was Gray, the more I realized people exploited his easy-going nature. They talked trash about his intelligence right in front of him, assuming he’d brush it off, probably thinking he was too clueless to understand what they were implying.
It took all my restraint not to say more. Gray had asked me not to, following the one time I confronted an uptight rich prick who thought he was better than the rest of us because he was attending a state college. Gray’s passivity infuriated me. He simply said, “What other people think of me isn’t any of my business,” and urged me to let it go.
I managed to keep my temper in check until Gray left the room. That’s when the twat started running his mouth even more. “I swear, that guy has rocks for brains. I heard he can’t even read.”
“It’s a shame too. He’s so cute,” the girl he was speaking to giggled.
“You better shut the fuck up about him before I rearrange your face,” I said, my tone ice cold and deadly.
The dickhead did a double take, shocked that someone dared to contradict him, and blondie gasped in shock.
“What the fuck did you just say?” he shouted across the locker room.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Since you’re so intelligent, I didn’t think you’d have trouble understanding a simple threat. I said, if I ever hear you say Gray’s name again, I’ll fuck you with a cactus.”
That fucker just earned himself four flat tires. After all, I’m not one for empty threats.
I turned on my heel and retreated, ignoring the guy’s shouts for me to come back and fight him. Can’t, sweetheart. Got to go find a knife.
