Friday night, but later, Falcon Lane was deserted when Aria dropped me off at home.
At least, at a glance it looked deserted.
Because when I got out the car, I saw a large shape sneak across the street. It looked like it's limping slightly.
"Hey," I called out.
The shape froze.
"Who are you yelling at?" Aria hissed, leaning over the passenger seat to look at me. "What if it's a murderer?"
"Even more reason to scare them off," I said. I tapped the roof of her car, then walked away. "Thanks for the ride!"
"Monty, don't think about going after-"
I jogged up to the shape. "Hey!"
"Monty!" Aria yelled, but I ignored her.
The shape took a hesitant step towards the Rogers' house. The insecurity felt a little odd for a murderer.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the dark shape turned around. "Could you maybe, uh, keep it down? I don't want my mom to wake up."
I cocked my head. "And why are you sneaking around in the middle of the night, Grayson Rogers?"
Grayson rubbed the back of his neck and looked off to the side. "Nothing special."
The most logical question would be to ask if he went to a fight, and if he won, but I didn't like admitting that I listened to gossip, so I didn't ask.
Instead I said, "You were limping."
"Uh, yeah." Grayson shuffled his feet, then winced and stopped. "I fell."
Or you were fighting an opponent much larger than yourself, and you won, but not without getting injured yourself.
"Does it hurt?"
He shrugged. "A little. It's not too bad. Just bashed up my knee."
This is getting ridiculous, I thought. No more skirting around the issue.
"You know, people have been talking."
"Don't they always?"
The answer made me smile. "True."
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
It felt a little like last Friday night, standing a respectable distance apart on a sleepy Falcon Lane, Grayson Rogers quiet like the night while I searched for words to fill the silence.
I didn't find any pretty words, so I used clear ones.
"They're saying you've been fighting people for money. And that's why you're always covered in cuts and bruises."
Grayson was silent as he took in my words.
Then he laughed. Not loud and boisterous, but quiet and warm.
"I'm guessing it's not true," I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
"Man, I wish, M," he laughed. "That would be so much cooler than the truth."
M.
The nickname transported me back to that evening three years ago, when the rain was pelting down against the windows and the sky had rumbled deafeningly. When our jeans had been soaked and our hair had been dripping and we had been freezing to the bone.
This was fun, M. Thanks.
"So if it's not illegal fighting, where did you get the injuries then?"
YOU ARE READING
Monty & Grayson
Romance[COMPLETED] For seven years, Monty has lived across the street from Grayson Rogers. In all those years, they've only talked a handful of times. There's a lot of things Monty knows about Grayson Rogers, and even more he doesn't know. Until one party...
