"Everything?" Brendan asks anxiously, and I want to throttle him. At the same time, Lance demands, "Know what?"
"I hope so," Ashton sounds alarmed. "What don't I know?"
"What don't I know?" Lance echoes. "What the hell?"
I can't open my mouth. My silence is Brendan's assurance that I haven't told Ashton anything he and I agreed not to, so he answers, "You both know everything you're supposed to."
I hear Lance grumble, dissatisfied with that response.
"Why did Ashton redecorate your room?" Grant asks.
Now we're all silent.
"Why, what happened?" He leans up on his elbow, searching for someone to answer him.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," I assure him, setting my hand on his shoulder to coax him back down.
"There's a lot I don't know, isn't there? You four have a thing between you, like some sort of bond that connects you?" Grant questions, recognizing something I hadn't. But he's right. We are bonded by something inexplicable. M
aybe fate brought us together ... but that would mean I'd have to believe in it.
"I thought I was cursed with Perception," Brendan says.
"How do you--" but I stop myself from asking him how he knows about the curses--Ashton told him.
"Is this what girls do when they have sleepovers?" Lance asks from the couch. "Say they're going to sleep, but then talk all night?"
"Are we keeping you up past your bedtime?" Brendan mocks.
"You're still on my suspect list," Lance calls to him.
"Suspect list?" Grant asks.
We all say together, "Tomorrow." And then laugh.
Grant shifts so he's facing me and takes ahold of my uninjured hand. His eyes focus on mine, and they shine in the twinkling light. I want to lean over and kiss him, but prefer not to open that door with Ashton and Brendan behind me. So we just lay there, silently talking with subtle twitches of our lips, a quirk of a brow, and gleam in our eyes. Until one of us, I don't know who does it first, closes their eyes and drifts to sleep.
Within the protection of the big spoon, with Brendan and Lance breathing heavily in the background, and Grant's hand firmly gripping mine, I whisper, "I'm an idiot too."
I crack an eye open to see Grant's lips curve into a brilliant smile.
With the sun faintly shimmering through the windows, I squint to find Ashton staring at me. Grant has taken over the big spoon position behind me, and Brendan is a sloppy spoon with an arm around Ashton and his face planted in the pillow behind her.
She smiles brightly when I blink awake, a little freaked that she been watching us sleep.
"Sorry if I have morning breath," she whispers.
"I can't smell it, but you may want to stay where you are just in case."
As quietly as she can, she half-mouths and half-whispers, "I love this." She nods toward me and Grant cuddled together. "I'm trying really hard not to use the word together. But seriously, get over it."
I try to contain my laughter so I don't wake Grant.
I look over at her and Brendan. I adore her. Him, not so much. So I don't understand his appeal. "Pretend they're not here and answer honestly. What do you like about Brendan? Because I don't get it."
"He can be the sweetest, most thoughtful person when he's not being an egotistical asshole. And nice guys aren't my thing, remember?" Ashton makes a scrunched up face when he squeezes her waist, fighting to hold in her squeal. When she opens her eyes again, she asks, "What do you like about Grant?"
"That he's not capable of being an egotistical asshole."