“That one.” I pointed to a drawer closer to the fridge. It was a little narrower, but not the smallest one in the kitchen.
“Why?”
“It just…” I shouldered in beside him and picked up the tray, which had way too much room to move around in the drawer he’d chosen. I opened the better choice drawer and slid it in, demonstrating the superior fit. “It’s better here."
“Okay…” Grayson didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t look like he wanted to argue about it. “Does everything already have a predetermined space in this absolutely brand new, never been used by us before kitchen?”
I looked around, tip of my tongue pinched between my teeth.
“I have a good idea about it, yeah.”
“Do you want me to let you do the kitchen then?” he asked, handing me another fork.
“Probably better.”
He nodded, stepping back and making room for me to settle silverware into the drawer.
“I can unbox and unwrap?” he offered, gesturing toward the box of new plates. “You just tell me where to put them?”
“I think I can manage it.” It would be better for both of us if he let me handle this one. “But if you want to start on the entertainment stand, that would be cool.”
Grayson gave me a cheesy thumbs up before heading back into the living room. Over the music, I could hear him slicing through tape and tearing open cardboard. He let loose a slew of curses under his breath, and then something thumped against the floor.
“Do you know what else would be cool?” he called toward the kitchen.
“What?”
“If you were twenty-one.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “You’re telling me.”
“How long until your birthday?” he asked. The question was almost obscured by the noise of him crumpling up whatever wrapping he was tearing through.
“Five weeks.”
Five weeks felt like a lifetime, but considering how quick the past six months had barreled through, I didn’t think it would take too long. I also didn’t think being twenty-one would feel any different than twenty, which I hated. On account of wanting the fresh start and all.
“If you promise not to tell your brother, I’ll take you out.”
“Like murder?” I put the last silverware into the drawer, then shifted my focus to unwrapping the plates.
“If you try too hard, maybe. But I do make an effort to keep my blood alcohol content relatively close to the legal limit.”
“Oh, you mean take me out for a drink,” I said.
The plates Grayson had picked were neon. I’d never seen neon plates before, and if you’d asked me, I would have told you they didn’t exist. But here they were in my hands, real as the rest of us.
“A few drinks,” he amended.
I opened the cabinet closest to the sink, above the dishwasher, and started to stack the plates on the bottom shelf.
“Are you just…” Grayson started to ask a question, but trailed off, until he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with a frown. Not that it was really a frown, and not that it was really a doorway. The whole apartment had a pretty open floor plan, and Grayson was the most light-hearted person I’d ever met in my life.
“It’s the dishes cabinet,” I assured him.
“Aren’t you going to wash them first?” he asked.
“Should I?”
