I shake off the thought, tossing the blade of grass aside and wiping my palms on my jeans. I’m being ridiculous.
But I can’t shake the whisper that maybe I’m not his kind of girl.
I hear footsteps before I see him. The crunch of gravel and a soft whistle that’s just slightly off-key. My heart stumbles over itself, and I glance up to find Gray standing a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, a grin spreading across his face.
“Found you,” he says, tilting his head.
I smile, scooting over just enough to make space. “You were looking?”
“Always.” He doesn’t hesitate. Just drops down beside me on the grass, stretching his long legs out and leaning back on his palms. He glances around the quiet patch of green. “Escaping the madness?”
I nod, staring down at my cup of cider. “Just getting some air.”
“Smart.” He lets out a slow breath, eyes drifting to the sky. “I’ve been running around for the last hour. Almost got roped into face-painting. I barely dodged it.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’d make a terrible face-painter.”
He gasps. “I would be excellent. My stick figures are practically museum-worthy.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smilingnow.
He glances over at me, eyes softening. “You okay? You seem…I don’t know. Somewhere else.”
I force a little smile, tracing the rim of my cup. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
I hesitate. The words taste silly on my tongue, but they press anyway. “Do you…ever feel like you should be with someone who’s more…” I bite my lip. “Put-together? Like one of those perfect church girls who has all the verses memorized and sings in the choir and never misses a Bible study?”
Gray’s brows knit, his whole body shifting toward me. “Where’s that coming from?”
I shrug, eyes glued to the cider in my hands. “I overheard some girls talking. About you. About the kind of person you’d actually date.” My throat tightens. “And it wasn’t…me.”
He exhales slowly, like he’s catching his temper before it sparks. “Ivy, you really think I’d let some gossip define what I want?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “It just…got in my head.”
Gray’s jaw ticks, but his eyes soften as they find mine. “I don’t have a checklist,” he says firmly. “But if I did? You’d be on it. Every single time.”
The world stills for a beat. My cheeks heat, the cider cooling between my palms.
“You don’t have to be someone else,” he adds, quieter now, leaning closer. “I want you—mess, questions, imperfections, all of it. That’s what I like.”
My heart stutters, caught between disbelief and hope.
Before I can form words, Harper’s voice slices through the trees, loud and unapologetic.
“There you two are!” She’s practically jogging over, waving her arms like she’s directing traffic. “I need help. Both of you. Now.”
Gray raises an eyebrow, glancing at me. “You think she’s serious?”
“She’s always serious,” I laugh. “We should probably go before she drags us.”
Gray groans but stands, brushing off his jeans. “I was just getting comfortable.”
“Well, duty calls,” I say, tilting my head toward the chaos.
He sighs dramatically, but when he offers me his hand to help me up, I take it. His fingers are warm and steady, and for a moment, I forget about those whispers. I forget about everything.
