Chain Reaction 1.15: Let's Make A Deal

A/N: It is due to sheer laziness that the officer extra in the pictures isn't in uniform. I couldn't figure out how to unlock the uniform in CAS, and I haven't played that career enough to unlock it the hard way. So, I did what I thought would be adequate. Now, the absence of a hat bothers me...but not enough to re-shoot. :)

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3rd person

     After Graham Taylor tips off the police about Jett McKinney's whereabouts, they eventually discover him at a casino in Lucky Palms. They inform Taylor of McKinney's capture and arrest. Mr. Taylor asks to speak to Mr. McKinney, and he's granted the opportunity.

     Jett watches as the familiar face walks into the interrogation room. He remembers this man. Of course he does! It was because of this numbskull that he got all the money to afford him, his wife, and his son the luxurious lifestyle they enjoyed until his arrest.

      Graham sneers at the thief, hoping he can avoid leaping across the table to wrap his hands around the man's throat and strangle the life out of him. People like him don't deserve to be granted what he hopes to do. He's here to negotiate. After all, Mr. McKinney has something he wants.

     "Hello again," Jett says, deciding to be the first one to speak. He assumes the man is here to demand his money back or to gloat about his capture. Honestly, Jett had hoped he'd covered his tracks adequately and that his case would get lost in the shuffle. After all, it's only robbery and identity theft. Once the three of them had arrived in Lucky Palms, they changed their names, identification numbers, everything. It helps to know the right people.

      Graham looks hard at the man sitting in front of him, despising the friendly demeanor he wears. This is the same man that would outright hit the woman he loves simply because she got on his nerves walking into a room. That offense burns angrily in his veins hotter than the fact that he stole all his savings, emptied his bank account, ran up credit cards in his name, or anything else he did to him.

      "I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm here to make a deal," he says stoically.

      Jett chortles merrily, overcome with irony. "So, what's it going to be? Whatever it is in your pocket or what's behind door number three? Honestly, I think I'll take the pocket." He grins as if to say that it worked well for him last time. "You want to make a deal? I wonder what it is that you could possibly want from me. I can't think of anything I'd want from you."

      "You can't? Your other offenses are small compared to what you did to me. I would assume you'd love it if I dropped the charges I have against you."

       Jett laughs again, his shoulders lightly bobbing. "As if you could!"

       "I would say it was all a gift. I'd do whatever I could to at least lessen your sentence," Graham states, a nasty taste in his mouth with the thought.

       Jett's laughter slowly dies as he stares at the moron in front of him. "Wow. You must really want something bad. Answer my curiosity, please, before it kills me."

        If only... Graham thinks, wishing he could punch the man. Thank the Maker that Brielle doesn't resemble her father in any way. If the man were a nicer person, perhaps their laughs would be similar, but Jett McKinney's evil nature changes a happy giggle into a cackle that one expects to hear in an old-fashioned horror movie.

      "Tell me, Mr. McKinney, you have a son, but don't you also have two daughters?" Graham asks.

      "You sound like a lawyer. So you want to discuss my family tree?" He laughs again, guessing what the man wants. "This is about Nyla?" He tries to hold in his next laugh, but it escapes anyway. "You want to drop the charges if I let you have Nyla? Like some old-fashioned prick that thinks he has to get a father's permission?" His hand waves in the air dismissively. "Hell, sure!"

     "Actually, it's not Nyla," Graham states, and he bolsters his courage to get to the crux of the matter, the entire purpose of this meeting, "but Brielle."

      The criminal immediately stops laughing, and he sits up straighter in his chair. "You sick bastard," he growls.

      "Excuse me?" Graham asks, his eyebrows going up. "How do you have any right to call anyone anything?"

      "Because that's my daughter, my child, you're talking about. Where is she?! What, do you have her shaking up with you and you need my okay so you're not arrested yourself?!" His voice raises in volume.

      Fury from the accusation rampages through Graham like a bull on fire. "She's living with Nyla, if you must know!" he snaps, losing control of his temper. His heart rate increases as he leans forward. "I convinced her to do it. She was living in a tent in the woods in order to escape you!" He stands up, wanting to punch the man at the very least. He hates that he never got his chance the night he found out about Brielle's actual age.
      Jett leans forward, one hand on the table and the other on the back of his chair, ready to throw the chair backwards in an instant should this slimeball lunge for him. Thus far, Jett's been a well-behaved prisoner, but he'll let all that go should he get a chance at this jackass that wants his teenage daughter.

      The silent police officer in the corner steps closer to the two men, ready to intervene, as the tension in the room rises. He gives them a quiet warning that they need to calm down.

     Graham slowly sits down, glaring across the table, and his voice sounds deadly when he quietly snarls, "And I don't blame her for running away after what you did to her."

      "What I did to her? All I did was try to teach the little bitch some respect, prancing around the house like an entitled princess. Kids these days have no respect for their elders." He glares back fiercely as he continues, "So, all that time I was telling you about her, you probably already knew where she was. Or...did you go out and find her after I'd talked to you about her?"

       "Actually, I was at the bar that night to drag you out back and beat the s--- out of you," Graham replies. "But I got distracted."

       The pieces start coming together in Jett's mind. "You acted strangely when I mentioned her age."

       "I was unaware. She'd told me she was eighteen," Graham confesses.

       Jett smiles proudly all of a sudden. "She convinced you she was eighteen? Chip off the ol' block." He sits back in his chair, chewing on the inside of his lip in a contemplative way. "You really had no idea, did you?"

       Graham's face starts to ache from glaring hard again at the man in front of him. "No. I believed her."

       The calculating look in Jett's eyes grows. "If you don't get my permission, you're possibly in some deep s---."

        "Nothing happened," Graham snarls, his heart rate accelerating once more.

        "Mhm," Jett replies, sounding like he doesn't believe a word of it.

       "Listen, Mr. McKinney, I'm willing to completely drop the charges if you give me your blessing to date your daughter. To me, that seems like a simple answer. I'm asking for a daughter you care nothing about in exchange for your precious freedom." His hands fist themselves under the table. Everything he wants rides on this man's decision. Will he say no just to spite him, willing to take the jailtime in order to make someone else miserable?

       A smirk shows up on Jett's face while pride for his middle child grows inside him. With her shenanigans, she provided a way for him to escape. "I have a counteroffer," he tells the tool sitting in front of him. "You drop the charges against me, and I won't charge you with statutory rape."

       "Nothing! Happened!" Graham yells, thanking the Maker that he didn't get exactly what he wanted the last evening he spent with Brielle.

       Jett laughs merrily. "What's the phrase? Oh, how do you say it? Hm?" His eyebrows go up. He hasn't forgotten what it is he wants to tell the man, but he loves playing it up. "Oh yeah. Tell it to the judge."

      "F--- you for dam-ed worthless sim!" Graham yells, standing up out of his chair.

      Jett sits in his chair with deceptive calm, closely watching Mr. Taylor's actions as he stands above him, panting from rage. "So do we have a deal?" he asks and pretends to look at his grimy fingernails.

     Graham doesn't answer him, instead asking to be let out of the room. The officer agrees, and Graham storms away.

      Jett laughs at his retreating back. Then, he sits back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. He won't be here much longer.

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Officer extra is Gerret Sims by NumBudder

Chain Reaction 1.14: A Tiny Seed of Hope

       Grayson and I have been dating for a few weeks now. I feel like I can tell him anything. He and I were great friends, making a romantic relationship the next natural-feeling step. At least, that's what I tell myself.
       He makes a fantastic boyfriend, and we've started grossing out our friends at lunch or in the hallway or wherever at school because we're constantly flirting, giving each other little kisses, etc. I really enjoy the affection; it makes life easier to bear. Lately, though, I've been "teaching" him how to kiss. Once we passed the simple kisses, he got sloppier. He keeps acting like he wants to eat my face, and I think that's gross. Graham would always kiss me perfectly, and I miss him. Every time I happen to go to Willow Creek for whatever reason, my eyes bounce around, watching for him.
       I often think about that half-conversation I heard with Nyla on the phone. That just had to have been Graham. My only doubt that it was is that Nyla didn't predictably flirt with him. It doesn't seem like her to miss that opportunity. I can't bring myself to ask, and she hasn't mentioned it.
       One day, the police show up at Nyla's house. They tell us Dad has disappeared, suspected of having robbed several people and stolen every asset from one man, even his identity. By the time they traced it all to Dad, he'd vanished. They question Nyla and me, but I don't think we're much help. While they question me, all I can think about is that they're going to take me from her. I don't want that to happen, especially if it means going back to my spineless mother after they arrest Dad, so I don't tell them much. I pretend that I'm distracted by wanting to get my homework done, which I do.
       Some of my grades are really suffering while in other classes, I caught up in a matter of days. I caught up in chemistry first, earning bonus points by completing an extra credit lab and presenting my findings in front of the class. Math took a bit more work, but I might be able to squeeze out a low B. My worst subjects are art because it's not my thing, English because I just don't get poetry and... history. Sometimes, I want to go and knock on Professor Taylor's office door to ask him to actually be my tutor....just as an excuse to see him. But, I don't.

     My phone chirps, indicating I have a text.

Please meet me tonight at the far picnic tables in the park in Willow Creek. 10pm.

     Graham! It's from Graham!

     He wants to see me? And he just expects me to show up without any explanation?

     I boldly send a reply:

Why?

Because I need to talk to you. I feel badly about the ending of our last meeting.

     I stand here and read his text over and over again. He feels badly? He needs to talk? I wonder what he has to say. Only one way to find out...

Okay

Thank you.

     I'm going to see him again! My heart beats swiftly in my chest as I think about it. And he says he feels badly about our last time together, when we broke up, so I know it's not going to be that I'm meeting with him so he can fuss at me.

      What will I wear?

     I decide to go with a slightly-cropped top and some shorts, knowing that the color will bring out my eyes. Not wanting to overdo it, I pull my hair back into a ponytail.

     I find Graham standing near the table at the fishing hole. He looks lost in thought.

     Fireflies flit around behind him, and a gentle breeze blows his hair forward. He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair to fix it back like he likes it. As he does, I see him let out a huff of mild annoyance. I'm a little late.

       He must hear me approach because he turns to look at me. I try to read his mood through his expression, but I can't. My curiosity about this meeting and its purpose grows.

      "Hi," he tells me casually. "Thank you for agreeing to talk to me."
      I offer up a small smile, not sure what to say. My hands shake as I look up at his warm brown eyes. I try to remind myself that he's twenty-eight and that I need to leave him alone, but I can't keep from wanting to wrap my arms around his neck and just hold him to me. My heart thumps painfully because I know I can't.

       "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking earlier. Did you have any trouble getting here?" he asks, referring to my lack of transportation before.

       "I borrowed Nyla's car. She's out with her boyfriend."

       He blinks slowly. "I realize this is really stupid of me meeting you here, at night, by ourselves, but I figured that if you were going to do anything bad to me that you'd have done it already."

       I scowl. "Bad to you?"

       His eyebrows raise like I should know what he means. "A private nighttime meeting with a minor? How do I know you're not going to turn me in to the authorities? How do you know I'm not going to snatch you away and abduct you?"

       Just the thought of his suggestion makes my heart beat even faster, and I can't decide if it's in excitement or fear. Still, I have to straighten him out.

      "That's ridiculous. You wouldn't do that."

      "Oh? And how do you know that, Brielle? Because you know me oh so well after dating me for half a week?" He hits me with a hard stare, making me fidget.
      "So, is this why you asked me to meet you here?" I decide to outright ask. I don't like this side of him I'm seeing. He's acting strangely, and I get the feeling that there's a reason brewing beneath the surface, something he's trying to hide.

      He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slumping his shoulders. Then, his hand reaches up and runs down his face before he says, "I'm sorry. You're right. That's absolutely ridiculous. I guess I should be happy you trust me like this, but at the same time, it both scares me and pisses me off because I could..." He doesn't finish.

      "Why not tell me why you wanted to talk to me," I suggest.
      "I'm trying," he says in a frustrated tone. He stares at my arm, and I want to know what he's thinking. He gives me a clue when he asks, "Did you use a glitter body wash or something?"
      "No..." I reply, leaving it hanging to show my curiosity as to why he'd ask that. "Does it look like I did?"
      "Yeah," he says simply. He sighs quietly before a look of pain crosses his face.

     "You said you're a Virgo, right?" he asks, and I nod a yes. "When's your birthday?"
     "September fourteenth," I answer.
     "Okay," he says, the wheels in his head turning almost audibly. He has to be wondering exactly when it is that I'll turn eighteen.
     "Why?" I ask anyway. I want to hear it.
     He does a counting motion with one hand, and he gets to four. "Sixteen months."
     "Until I'm eighteen?" I ask. Does this mean he wants to wait?! A tiny seed of hope takes root inside my heart.
     "Yeah," he answers shortly. Then, he clamps his mouth shut, runs both hands through his hair until they rest against the back of his neck, turns around, and walks away from me several paces. I watch him, my heart aching, as he walks over to the water to look at the moonlight bouncing off its surface.
      I stay in the same spot, regarding him as he crouches down to dip his fingertips in the water. As he moves them, ripples form, waving back and forth across the water before the mild turbulence disrupts them. He sighs again, stands up, and walks back over to me.

      "I wanted to... You... The reason... Hm." He makes a light snorting sound come out his nose before closing his eyes. I can't help but smile. It's all I can do to keep from giggling. I worry it would upset him if I did. He's tense.
      He opens his eyes and sees me smiling at him.

        "You still think it's funny when I get like that, don't you?" he asks playfully.
        A giggle slips out, and I nod. "Of course I do."
        "I'm trying to discuss what I called you out here to discuss, but I keep getting distracted."
        I shrug and smile. "Not my fault you keep getting distracted."
        He smiles a cryptic smile at me and says, "No, it's completely, one-hundred percent your fault."
        I shake my head no. "Uh-uh. I think you're avoiding it and using me as an excuse."
        He smiles sheepishly and looks down. "Yeah, you're probably right." He shuffles his feet. "I want to apologize for claiming I didn't know you."

        My face falls, and I can't look at him. "Oh." I stare at his shoes, remembering how hurt I was when he said that. The words stabbed me, making me think he felt nothing that happened between us was real.
        He continues. "I was hurting." After a pause, he says, "Something you said has been circling around and around in my head."
        "What?" I ask flatly.
        His voice sounds strained. "You're still you; I'm still me."
        "Yeah," I state, again sounding lifeless.
        "Yeah," he echoes like he's trying to be more upbeat about it. I glance at him. "But, obviously, that doesn't make enough of a difference, enough of a point, but I know what you were meaning."
        "Right. It doesn't make enough of a difference. I'm still sixteen."
        "Not in less than a year and a half, though," he states in a sure voice. Then, he sounds more defeated as he questions, "But does it even matter?"
        "What do you mean?" I ask and look at him to see a small glare.

        "This is what I can't figure out: Why? I have to know. Did I really mean so little to you that you wasted little time before... before acquiring a new boyfriend?" He manages to keep control of his voice, but he tenses up again like he's bracing himself.
        "That was you that night on the phone with Nyla," I say.
        "Yes. I won't lie and say it wasn't. She did give me her phone number after all, so I decided to use it to check up on you. I assume you heard what she told me. Imagine my...surprise." He stops talking and swallows. Then, he steels himself for his next question. "I wonder to myself if it's worth my time and patience if I mean so little to you. Is it even going to matter? Do I even matter? Everything was so short." He exhales painfully. "Too damn short. I know myself, but you..." He can't finish.

      I inhale, and my breath hitches in my throat a few times. He still loves me, and finding out about Grayson hurt him.
      "I mean, Brielle, I can't expect..." He lets his statement drift off while I fight tears. "It was only three...four days, right? Just tell me now, and I'll..." He doesn't finish this statement either, and I hear him let out a pained breath. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry or I'll do something stupid."
      I manage to find my voice. "Grayson is an old friend. We've been friends since we were kids, and he actually asked me out the Friday before our 'picnic.' I'd told him a pretty-much no, but he asked again when I finally went back to school. I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't."
     "Right," Graham says in an understanding way. "True. Why shouldn't you? You thought, rightly so, that I didn't want anything to do with you anymore...if that matters."
     "I was hurting, and he made it easier to bear." I take in another hitched breath. "I mean, yeah, I'm a little attracted to him," because he reminds me of you, "but if we were together still, I wouldn't have said yes."
      Silence echoes around the two of us for several moments. I have little idea what goes through Graham's head. All I can think about is that I desperately want to wrap my arms around him, rest my head on his shoulder, and have him tell me that he doesn't give a damn that I'm underage.
     "Poor Grayson," he says quietly.
     "Huh?" I risk looking up at him again, and I see him looking back at me so sadly that it pierces my heart.

      "It's never an easy thing to be the rebound guy," he explains gently, "especially if you started out as friends. I've been there."
      Jealousy streaks through me with the thought of Graham with someone else, and the streak ends in my stomach, twisting into a painful ball. Is this how Graham feels? Mine is only imagined, but his is real.
      "I'm sorry," I say quietly.
      His eyebrows go up in a worried look. "Please, Brielle. What I most need to know is...if... I should even bother or if I should just take a hike."

       "It's not fair," I say and try to hide my face.
       "I know. I'm sorry," he says quietly.
       "I mean it's not fair to you to ask you..." It's not even fair to finish the sentence.
       His voice has never sounded more beautiful than now when he says, "But I will."
       A little sob slips out of me before I can stop it, and I hear him breathe in quickly in pain. "Don't," he gasps out.
      My voice whines as I say, "It's just such a long time! It's not fair! It's so stupid! It's not like my parents even care." I throw my hand off my face and glare at him, not really at him but in his direction.

     His head pops like he just got an idea, and I watch him concentrating on whatever idea it was that he had. Finally, he speaks. "I forgot to mention that your dad stole my wallet. He took everything I had, all my savings, stole my identity, everything. The police have tried to find him, but they can't."
     "Oh, man, I'm sorry." I say, shocked, remembering when the police came by the other day. I didn't know at the time that it was because he'd robbed Graham. I scold myself now for not helping the police more when they'd questioned me. Then, I remember stuff my dad would say, stuff I'd somehow forgotten when they'd asked me the few questions. "He'd always talked about wanting to go to Bridgeport. That or Lucky Palms. That's just sick that he's probably doing that on your money. I hate him." We need to get Mom and my brother away from him. I don't want to live with them, but then again, maybe she wouldn't be so bad, so spineless, on her own.
      "Bridgeport or Lucky Palms?" he asks, and I nod. "Interesting." He hasn't lost that super-thoughtful look.
      "What is it?" I ask, dying of curiosity.
      "I'm not going to say right now," he says carefully. "And you should probably get back to your sister's."
      I scowl at him. I'm not ready to say goodbye, goodnight, or anything that means I have to leave his presence. Just being near him has really helped. I worry that if I'm away from him again that the pain will return.
      "I'll walk you to her car."
      We walk together. Graham shoves his hands in his pockets, and the only noise around us is the frogs croaking like they're having a miniature battle over who gets the best bugs. I wish I knew something to say that could extend our meeting, but everything I can think to do could possibly end with the two of us doing what we shouldn't. When we get to Nyla's car, he opens the door for me.
       "Is it okay if I call you sometimes?" he asks.
       "You'd better," I say in a sassy voice, and he smiles. The thoughtful look never leaves his face, though, as he watches me drive away.

Chain Reaction 1.13: Hard Truth

     Grayson takes me out to the club in Oasis Springs. I'm glad it's not the one in Willow Creek because I don't want to see Dad. I'm afraid if I saw him that I'd run up to him screeching and want to claw his eyes out...maybe rip out his tongue.
     'All he did was tell Graham the truth, something you should've done right from the start.'
     Yes, but had I told Graham, I could've made it better, said it in a way that wouldn't have him up all night thinking about it. Maybe something could've been salvageable.
      I imagine my inner voice shaking her head and looking down with her head in her hand.
      At least now I have Grayson.
      'Grayson is more your speed.'

      "We can dance if you want," Grayson says nervously.
      I look over at him and grin. "I've seen you dance, remember? I think I'll pass."

      "Would you like something to drink? Eat maybe?" he asks, and I get the distinct impression that he's extremely nervous and doesn't know what else to say. He has no idea what he's doing. Pity for him runs through me.
      I smile. "I'm fine." Think of something, Brielle! He's so nervous!
      Why do I have to be the one to think of something? I ask myself then realize that I'm the one with more experience with dating than Grayson. Sure, it was only a few days, but they were intense.
      "So, are you still wanting to become a police officer like you used to?" I ask with a happy smile. Get him talking about himself.
      He relaxes a little bit. "Yeah. I guess I haven't changed much from when I was a little kid."
      "I'll say you have," I interject and wink at him. He blushes!
      "Um...I mean like I still want to do the detective thing." He picks at the cushion on the little sofa.

     I decide that maybe getting a Coke or something couldn't hurt, so I suggest that we do head over to the bar to get a drink. Grayson makes a relieved sigh and swallows. I'd place bets his mouth is dry.
     I guess I'm used to a guy knowing what he's doing. This is so weird being with someone my own age. Did I look this awkward to Graham? If I did, he graciously took it all in stride. My heart cries the tiniest amount as a vision of Graham's smiling face passes before my mind's eye.

     Grayson and I sit at the bar and make fun of Sade for a while, talking about her while she's not around. I bring up how Sade had told me about Alex falling in the cafeteria and how she'd laughed at him. Grayson agrees with me that although it was funny, Sade really went overboard on making fun of Alex.
     "He's just getting used to his more grownup body," I say, meaning how Alex is a late bloomer.
     Grayson gives me a look. "What do you mean by that?"
      I sit up straighter. "I mean he's had a growth spurt...finally." Grayson gets quiet, and I change the subject before we both go and have a seat on another, bigger sofa.

     "In case I forget to tell you, you look beautiful tonight," Grayson says, and I smile.

     Compliment time. "Thank you. I'm glad you appreciate the five hours it took me to get ready." I'm joking. If he did the math, he'd realize that if what I said were true, I would've had to start getting ready while we were still in class earlier in the afternoon.
      "Five hours?!" he asks, his mouth dropping when he finishes.
      I crack up laughing. "No, silly. I was kidding."
      "Oh. Yeah. I guess you'd have to be," he says with a small smile.

      Someone comes to sit on my other side. He has a drink in his hand, and he looks mildly familiar. "Hey, don't I know you?" he asks with a sly grin.
      Was that a sorta pick up line? Can't he see I'm with someone?
      "Yeah, I think I do," he continues, and Grayson gives him a funny look. "From that day in the library at SCU?"
      Oh my Maker!
      Grayson answers for me. "No, you have to be mistaken."
      The guy replies, "No, I don't think I am. History major, right?"
      My hands start shaking, and I can't look at the guy.

     I decide to tell a half-truth to Grayson. "I...did sometimes go and hang out at the library."
     "All the way out there? Why when there was a library closer?"
     I take a deep breath. "My, uh, tutor teaches there. It was more convenient."

     The guy with the drink won't stop talking! "Yeah, I saw you leaving with Professor Taylor." I tilt my head around and cut my eyes over to him. He smirks and keeps going. "Didn't look like a student/tutor relationship to me." He takes a sip of his drink with the smirk still in place. "I was actually going to ask you for your number, but then I saw you already had someone. I thought, 'wow, dating a student?' But then I figured it wasn't that big a deal."
     I lose it. This man could blow everything for everyone! Panicking, I yell, "Would you shut up?!" Several people turn and look at me, curious.
     Grayson lets out a huge exhale and stands up.
     "Grayson, wait," I beg, but that only makes things worse. With my tone, he can tell that what that guy said has at least some truth to it. He shakes his head and turns to go.
     I round on the guy next to me. "Would you just mind your own business?!" If I beg him to keep his mouth shut, he'll think that it WAS a big deal that I was dating Graham. I can't let myself beg.
     He smiles instead of smirks at me. "Sorry. I saw you're apparently dating other people, and I was wondering if I could have your number."
     I growl. He's not sorry at all! He did all that on purpose to scare away Grayson. He still thinks I'm a student at SCU. "You've got to be kidding me!" Then I jump up and run down the stairs after Grayson.

      I decide not to worry anymore about the college guy. Besides, if he thought that students dating teachers was no big deal, I don't think he'll blab that I was underage should he find out somehow.
      Once I get outside, I see Grayson hasn't made it very far with his moping walk.
      "Grayson! Where are you going?" I run around and get in front of him.
      "I'm going home. Was that guy your tutor or not?" he asks.
      "It doesn't matter anymore. He's out of the picture," I say evasively.
      "What Sade saw was the two of you breaking up, wasn't it?"
      "I'm sorry. I lied," I tell him, scared out of my mind. "I didn't want him to get in trouble. He didn't know I'm sixteen, so I told you he was my tutor."

      "You lied to me to protect him?" he asks and slumps dramatically.
      "I'm sorry. I was scared!"
      "Of what?! You think I'd tell or something?" He implies that he thinks it would be a childish thing to do.
      "I don't know! I... I didn't know if I could... trust you." I swallow thickly.
      He gasps out a whisper like I've stabbed him. "You what?! Bri, that hurts even worse than you lying to me."
      I put my hands over my face, trying not to cry. This night has gotten awful very quickly, and in trying to dig myself out of my lie, I only made things worse. I sniff.
      "Bri..." Grayson reaches for my hands.
      "I'm so sorry!" I whine.
      "I forgive you," he tells me softly, and I let him have my hands.

        "You what?" I ask, and a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth.
        The jerk that started this whole mess walks out of the club and sees Grayson holding my hands. He pulls his lips up in a closed-mouth smile, and his eyebrows go up in a 'win some/lose some' expression.
       Grayson takes a deep breath. "I can understand why you'd want to protect the guy, and you have my word I won't say anything. Sure. He was your tutor as far as some people are concerned. Do I have your assurance that you really did break up with him?"
       I quickly nod my head. "Yes. He found out about my age. I'd...lied to him."

       His mouth goes up in a quirky smile. "You've always been one hell of a storyteller. But we need to work on not making them turn out into outright lies. Bri, please don't lie to me. There's nothing about you that could make me hate you, so don't feel like you have to keep things from me to protect me or anyone."
       My smile slowly grows on my face. Nothing? Really? I've always, I guess, wanted to protect myself and others from a truth that might hurt, so I lie as some kind of defense.

      Before he can do anything, I rapidly lean forward and kiss him.

       I pull back and look at his happily-surprised expression.
       At least he looks happy.
       "I..." he says, stumbling with the words. "Bri, you weren't supposed to do that first."
       After everything that's just happened, that makes me crack up laughing. I must be hysterical. Grayson merely stands there smiling and watching me laugh.
       His voice sounds lower when he continues, "And yes, I said 'first.'"

       He pulls me to him and sweetly kisses me. It's simple and perfect and just what a kiss from Grayson should be.