Page 13 of Eleanor & Grey
It wasn’t even the way he looked or the things he said. It was just small things about him.
I didn’t talk to a lot of people, but I noticed them well enough.
I noticed the way he became uncomfortable with certain things, the way he’d tap his fingers against his legs and never stand still.
I noticed the way he kind of smelled like red licorice.
Thinking about him was like a bad daydream I couldn’t wake up from. A part of me wondered if he thought about me too.
This was a whole new concept for me.
I didn’t do crushes, unless we were talking about fictional characters. I always found guys my age to be idiotic and shallow. Everything about high school was the worst kind of cliché.
To me, everything seemed so contrived and fake. It was all based on superficial things like looks, popularity, and how much money your parents made. I just didn’t want any part of it.
Until Greyson and that stupid grin showed up. Now I was one of those girls, wondering about him when I shouldn’t have been and reading one too many articles about having a crush.
“Hey, Snickers,” Dad said, popping into my room while twirling a pencil between his fingers.
“What?! Nothing. Stop. Huh?” I huffed quickly, hurrying to close the internet browser on the desktop computer. My breaths went in and out as I tried to cover up my nerves. “Hi, Dad,” I said on an exhale, giving him a wide, toothy grin.
His eyebrow raised. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing. What do you need? What’s up?”
He rubbed his hand against his stomach and narrowed his stare. My father had a nice gut on him, and he called it Doritos, after the cause of the creation of said gut. Mom was a vegan, and she always tried to get him to go down that line with her, but he was completely against giving up bacon—which I understood.
For the most part, Mom was good at keeping Dad’s diet in check. He’d been prediabetic before she’d gotten him to somewhat follow her eating plan. She’d tell him it would make her happy if he had a salad with dinner, so he’d have the salad, because making her happy was his favorite activity.
I always giggled a bit when he’d rub Doritos as he tried to figure something out, as if his belly was a magic lamp with all the answers.
“I just wanted to let you know it’s just you and me for dinner tonight. Your mom’s not feeling great.”
My gut tightened as worry took over. “Oh? Is she OK?”
“Just a little tired.” He smiled. “She’s all right, Ellie. I promise.”
He called me Ellie and not Eleanor, so I believed him.
He scratched his chin. “So, dinner?”
“I can’t tonight. I’m babysitting Molly.” I’d been babysitting Molly Lane twice a week, Mondays and Fridays, for the past few months after school. She was a spunky five-year-old girl wholived a few blocks away, and she kept me on my toes. “I should actually head over there soon.”
“Oh, it is Monday, isn’t it?” He wiggled his nose. “Well, I guess it’s just me,Frasier, and Mickey D’s for dinner tonight.”
“Does Mom know about the McDonald’s?” I asked, knowing about Dad’s latest diet plan.
He pulled out his wallet and held up twenty bucks. “Does she have to know about it?”
“Are you bribing me?”
“I don’t know—is it working?”
I walked over and took the money from his grip. “Yup, it sure is.”
He wrapped his hands around my head and kissed my forehead. “I always knew you were my favorite daughter.”
“I’m your only daughter.”
