Page 17 of Eleanor & Grey
“Can I be pink?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “OK, Pink.”
“And you’re Red! Like your face right now.”
Well, that felt fitting.
4Eleanor
You know those first few minutes after you’ve finished an amazing book?
Those moments when you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself?
You simply sit there, staring at the last words, unsure how to move on with your life.
How can it be over?
How can those characters just fade to black?
For you, the characters are still imprinted on your soul. Their actions, their dialogue still alive and strong in your mind. Your tears haven’t even dried, and you crave another fix.
I loved that feeling—the bittersweet love story between a person and a novel coming to an end.
That’s what happened to me after I finishedWesley Peters.
I didn’t really know what to do with myself. Mom was still recovering from her cold, and Dad was off watching TV, so I did the only thing that felt natural: I thought about Greyson.
I was officially a teenage cliché.
Every time I headed over to watch Molly, I grew more and more nervous about the idea that Greyson could be sitting on the porch across the street, three houses down. I knew it was stupid, but on those days, I might’ve started combing my hair a little more, and I might’ve asked Shay for makeup tips.
I might’ve overplucked my eyebrows too.
Each time Greyson wasn’t there, I let out a sigh of relief, but then I felt a little sad.
When Friday came three weeks after our first interaction at Molly’s, my heart raced as he came jogging across the street toward me.
“I’m a midnight,” he declared, waving the book he had gripped in his hand.
I tugged on the bottom of my cardigan. “What?”
“I’m part of the midnight tribe. It was a toss-up between that and crimson, but then I read some articles online, and I’m pretty sure I’m midnight.”
Midnight was a prominent tribe in my favorite series. “You readWesley Peters?”
He nodded. “Yup. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but those are long.”
“You...” My heart pounded against my rib cage. “You readallof the books?”
“All five, and now I’m counting down the days until the next one releases.”
Same, Grey, same.
“Why did you read them all?”
“So we’d have something in common. Plus, I wanted you to form a stupid, unrealistic crush on me that goes against everything you stand for.” He began flipping through the book, pointing out a few of his favorite quotes, which he’d highlighted. He talked quickly, going over his likes and dislikes for each of the books. He told me his favorite characters, he told me his pet peeves, and he spoke as if he truly understood what he was talking about.
I was still stuck on the fact that he’d read all five books simply so we would have something in common.
