Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Grayson backed up a half-step, surprised. “What are you—”
“I couldn’t figure out Excel. Can’t touch type. Have never written my own CV let alone one for someone else! The whole day I’ve had to feel inferior. Not everyone is you, talented at a glance.” Pulse pounding with frustration, Carl stepped up to Grayson and prodded his chest. “At first, I thought this extortion thing was to mask your own—whatever pain that was at Linda’s. Then, I accepted you probably enjoyed being cheeky, making me work for your silence. But now I wonder if I was wrong about you having a big heart. You’re just like the rest of them. Trying to make me see myself for the dud I am.” Carl grabbed fistfuls of shirt, swallowed the achy knot in his throat, and stared back hard into those dark eyes. “Is it really so bad running a convenience store? Does liking horoscopes make me so undeserving?” He breathed hard. His hands hadn’t stopped trembling. “Is this why it feels a little addictive playing Jason? To have people look at me and think ‘that’s a cool person’. To be accomplished. To be worth—worth . . .”
Carl laughed hollowly. What was he doing? Letting his feelings run away with him wouldn’t change anything. And letting them run away in front of someone he barely knew . . . Ridiculous.
He let go of Grayson and stepped back. “Whatever. Go in. Have a blast. I’ll stop the melodrama.”
Carl turned back to his bike, only to be tugged by the hand and spun around. In a whoosh of movement and woodsy scent, Grayson’s arms came around him and hauled him into a hug. Carl startled, and Grayson held on tighter, a puffed sigh rolling along the back of his neck. It took Carl many uneven breaths before he could utter “Grayson?”
“Can we . . . sit somewhere a moment?” Grayson loosened his hold and gestured down the street to a bench surrounded by lawn and tussock that overlooked the harbour.
The bench was cold, and they were both underdressed for a southerly wind, but emotions ran hot, tempering it. Mostly. Grayson dabbed a nervous-looking sheen from his forehead, opened and shut his mouth, and then, at Carl’s shiver, unwrapped his silver scarf and draped it around Carl’s shoulders. “Wait here a minute.”
He rushed off the bench and dashed towards the convenience store, returning a minute later with steaming paper cups of coffee. Carl tucked the soft scarf he’d been staring at into his collar, and took the drink.
The first sip was a creamy treat and Carl decided he’d give Grayson the benefit of the doubt.
Grayson stared into his coffee cup and then lifted his gaze to Carl. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you.”
The apology had Carl’s throat thickening. “Why? Why did you want me doing all this?”
“I thought being busy might numb your feelings. But I misunderstood your pain and made it worse. I was wrong.”
Numb my feelings. Carl watched Grayson’s gaze drop to his coffee again. It took a few beats, but eventually Grayson continued, “I messed up with you today.” He dabbed his brow with his sleeve again. “About your twin swap. I won’t tell anyone.”
“No more extortion?”
“I’m truly an asshat.”
Carl chuckled and side-eyed Grayson for a long moment. “You know what? It’s hard to admit making mistakes. Harder to apologise. I maybe, sort of respect you right now.” Breath fogged the air between them as he leaned in and added, “I’m sorry for lashing out at you, too. Saying you have no heart . . . It was said in frustration. It was mean and untrue.”
Grayson smiled, but there was a sad depth in his eye. When he noticed the carefulness of Carl’s observation, he tried to laugh it off. “You weren’t all wrong. It’s broken, this one.” Laughter turned into coughing, and Grayson shifted away from him on the bench. There was a wall being thrown up, and a big sign to Change The Subject.
Carl wasn’t entirely ready to accept the wall, though. He tried lightening the mood instead, thumping a palm on Grayson’s thigh. “If you ever decide to fix it, you’ve got actual groupies to help.”
Grayson hesitated, like he was warring inside how hard to shut this topic down. He swallowed and cast a look at Carl’s palm. “Including you it seems.”
Carl scoffed and pinched Grayson’s thigh before letting go. Once again, Grayson’s laugh turned to coughing, and the violence of it had Carl gazing hard at the man. That sheen on his forehead, the dampness around his short eyelashes, the red mark where Grayson kept touching his throat. Not nervousness and a slight cough. This was . . .
Carl smacked a hand onto Grayson’s forehead and yelped. “You’re hot.”
“You don’t give up, do you?” Grayson wheezed.