For the most part, Grayson kept quiet. It really was the best way to refrain from making further comments on her personality - or her thighs. Two things he really did not need to draw more attention to. Kittens continued to taunt him from the opposite side of the car.
He was doing a great job of pretending he did not want to participate in all of her suggestions, when his feelings were the exact opposite. If she continued being all talk and less action, he was blissfully safe.
"I was not calling you a whore," he corrects automatically, as if he were the one that had any place to be offended. Another adjustment to his glasses, more brushing back his hair. "I may have just implied that you acted like one."
Great job. He was screaming internally. That was not better. What happened to the part where he was going to stop talking?
He didn't know her, but he liked something about her and that bothered him. She was distracting enough to take his mind from where it usually wandered and that was somewhat of a relief. One could only spend so much time thinking about other people they couldn't get close to without driving themselves mad. However, thinking about how he wasn't thinking about certain things, got him thinking about them again and his features hardened. Being faerie-charmed was not all the beauty and magic it was made out to be.
His sarcastic laughter trailed him as he made his way up the steps to the front porch. He shifted the pile of files, and camera, and coat the best he could to shove the key into the lock. "Shut up, it's not like that," he was not as defensive with this explanation as he'd been with all the others. Pushing the door open with his hip, he walked inside as if he expected her to follow. "It's about space, but if you'd rather stay the night as some dingy apartment in the city with some sleazeball, speak up now, and I would be more than happy to call you a cab."
The inside of the house was everything the outside would make you expect, the surprising part was it was actually decorated like a real person lived in it, not just a big, lonely jerk. There were pictures of people; parents, siblings: apparently he'd not just spawned out of the blue, grumpy and rude one day.
Items would be left on the kitchen island in an unceremonious heap. With a sigh, he leaned his butt against it and fiddled disinterestedly with his striped tie. "There's a guestroom if you want it. I am assuming you've gotten all the sexual innuendo out of your system?" He looked up from the fabric to spare her a glance, that turned into a flickering of his eyes over her entirety.
He was doing a great job of pretending he did not want to participate in all of her suggestions, when his feelings were the exact opposite. If she continued being all talk and less action, he was blissfully safe.
"I was not calling you a whore," he corrects automatically, as if he were the one that had any place to be offended. Another adjustment to his glasses, more brushing back his hair. "I may have just implied that you acted like one."
Great job. He was screaming internally. That was not better. What happened to the part where he was going to stop talking?
He didn't know her, but he liked something about her and that bothered him. She was distracting enough to take his mind from where it usually wandered and that was somewhat of a relief. One could only spend so much time thinking about other people they couldn't get close to without driving themselves mad. However, thinking about how he wasn't thinking about certain things, got him thinking about them again and his features hardened. Being faerie-charmed was not all the beauty and magic it was made out to be.
His sarcastic laughter trailed him as he made his way up the steps to the front porch. He shifted the pile of files, and camera, and coat the best he could to shove the key into the lock. "Shut up, it's not like that," he was not as defensive with this explanation as he'd been with all the others. Pushing the door open with his hip, he walked inside as if he expected her to follow. "It's about space, but if you'd rather stay the night as some dingy apartment in the city with some sleazeball, speak up now, and I would be more than happy to call you a cab."
The inside of the house was everything the outside would make you expect, the surprising part was it was actually decorated like a real person lived in it, not just a big, lonely jerk. There were pictures of people; parents, siblings: apparently he'd not just spawned out of the blue, grumpy and rude one day.
Items would be left on the kitchen island in an unceremonious heap. With a sigh, he leaned his butt against it and fiddled disinterestedly with his striped tie. "There's a guestroom if you want it. I am assuming you've gotten all the sexual innuendo out of your system?" He looked up from the fabric to spare her a glance, that turned into a flickering of his eyes over her entirety.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
The following 1 user Likes megs's post: Tindome
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