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He’s quiet a long time again before he answers. “Not with her.”
“With who?” I whisper.
“I can’t talk about this with you over the phone.”
“Then come over,” I suggest.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You keep saying that, but…” I trail off as I hope he fills in the blank there that hell yes it’s a good idea.
“But what, Ava?” he demands. Before I can answer, he jumps in. “But you’re Beckett’s little sister.”
“Stop saying that!” I yell into the phone. “I’m a goddamn adult, and I’m so tired of you acting like I’m not. Why can’t you just admit that you want me too?”
“Fine!” he yells back at me. “Fine. Yes. I want you. Okay? I want you so fucking bad that I just rubbed one out thinking about you, not her, and when I came all over my own hand, I yelled out your name. I’m staying in the same damn suite where I fucked you, and I see you everywhere. I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I know how this is going to turn out, Ava, and I refuse to hurt you.”
I’m shocked into silence for a beat by his words. His passion. His admissions.
But one thing remains the same.
“You keep saying that, but you’re hurting me more by refusing to give this a chance.”
I hang up on him after I say those words.
I hope they’re enough to convince him to move to action. We can handle Beckett later. Just because we give this a real try doesn’t mean it has to ruin anything between the two of them. It’s not like Beck and I see each other every day and it’s going to drive some big wedge between us if things go south with Grayson.
I head back out to the family room, where Kelly is sitting on the couch.
I debate how much to tell her as I collapse down next to her, my head on the top of the cushion as I stare up at the ceiling.
I don’t like fighting with Grayson. That whole exchange should have me feeling giddy and excited. He just admitted he has feelings for me.
Instead, all I feel is sad.
Kelly and I tell each other everything. She’s my best friend.
But saying that he rubbed one out while he was thinking about me feels too personal to reveal to my best friend.
“How’d it go?” she asks.
“Instead of being accusatory, I told him you saw the pictures, and I asked if I’m still his fake girlfriend. He said she’s a friend from LA, and he told her he’s seeing someone.”
“Why would he need to tell her he’s seeing someone if she’s just a friend?” she asks, and part of me wonders if she’s reading more into him than she should because of the warning he issued where Austin is concerned.
I shrug. “We didn’t really get into that part. We started fighting instead, and I told him to come over, and he said it’s not a good idea because he’ll only hurt me, and then I told him he’s hurting me more by not giving this a chance, and I hung up on him.”
“You hung up on him?” she repeats.
I twist my lips and nod.
“Well, maybe he’ll come over then,” she suggests.
I shake my head. “I doubt it. I’m worried I’ve pushed him further away than ever, and I’m not sure where we go from here.”
“Then wait it out. If you’re still dating, fake or not, he’ll be in touch soon.”
“I hope. What’s been going on with you and Austin?” I ask, changing the subject to her.
