I grab the flowers I bought for Mrs. Coach from the passenger seat and make sure I look presentable before heading to the door. My mother is always carrying on and on about always looking your best, especially when you’re visiting other people.
I knock once and let myself in, something I’ve grown accustomed to doing since my family is pretty close with the Morgans. “Hello?” I call out, hearing mumbling coming from the kitchen. “In here Grayson honey,” my mothers’ voice replies.
I walk two steps before I hear Hannah and Finley running down the stairs. “Grayson! Grayson!” they yell in unison, their tiny little voices filling the hallway. I put the flowers down and crouch on the ground in anticipation of their attack. Their faces light up like the Fourth of July when they see me and launch their little bodies into my arms.
“Hi girls,” I say, returning their affection.
Their little arms go around my neck and they squeeze. “We missed you,” Finley says, placing a kiss on my cheek. Hannah, the younger one of the two, watches her big sister and follows suit, leaving a wet kiss on my other cheek. I know most guys my age are terrified of kids but Hannah and Finley are special. Since my sister Emilie’s death, I’ve come to love these two little girls as if they are my own flesh and blood, taking on the role of a ‘big brother’ so to speak.
“I missed you too girls,” I return their kisses with one of my own, causing them to giggle and run into the kitchen where our mothers are standing.
“Oh Grayson, I’m so happy to see you sweetheart,” my mother coos. I wrap my arms around her and hug her, knowing that she’s still very emotional after our visit to Emilie’s grave yesterday. “Hi Mom.”
I hand Mrs. Coach her flowers and she pulls me in for a hug. “So nice to see you again Grayson.”
“You too Mrs. Coach. You know I would never miss an opportunity to eat your delicious home cooked food,” I joke.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were sucking up,” my mother teases.
“I don’t need to. I’m already Mrs. Coach’s favorite.”
“You’re so sure of yourself,” Mrs. Coach responds, swatting me playfully on the arm. I give her a wide, toothy grin and both women just laugh at me. I head outside to the grill where I see my father talking to Coach Morgan. Both men look up when they see me approach and I greet each one with a hand shake.
Moments later, Mrs. Coach calls me inside to help carry out the remainder of the food when there’s a knock at the door. It’s so soft I’m almost sure I imagined it. “Grayson honey, please grab the door,” Mrs. Coach calls from the kitchen. I walk to the door but when I open it, I’m completely unprepared for what’s in front of me. Or rather who is in front of me.
Huntley is wearing a coral sundress with matching pumps. The color accentuates her sun-kissed skin, making it look like she’s glowing.
Her hair is curled and left loose, hanging down past her shoulders. My eyes stop at her lips, pink and glossy. I stand there like an idiot and shamelessly drink her curves in.
She clears her throat and for a brief second I’m lost in the depth of those sapphire-colored irises. I have never seen stormy blue eyes until now. They tell a story, about what I’m not sure, but it’s there, in those stormy depths and I want to find out what it is.
“Hi,” she whispers. Her musical voice moves through my body and jolts me from my daze.
“What are you doing here?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. Hurt flashes across her face at the sound of my accusatory tone and I want to kick myself in the nuts for being such an ass. It just goes to show what being around this gorgeous girl does to me.
“This is my family,” she states matter-of-factly, “I was invited.”
Of course she was invited. Coach Morgan is her uncle after all.
Thank you Captain Obvious…
Dumbass…
“Sorry, of course, come in,” I barely choke the words out and gesture for her to come in. I catch a trace of her perfume and almost lose my mind. God, I love strawberries and vanilla. She giggles and I realize I said that out loud.
Are you fucking kidding me? Could this get any worse?
Huntley pauses in front of me and smiles. It’s enough to steal the air right out of my lungs.
“Strawberries and vanilla are my favorite too,” she whispers. She stretches onto the balls of her feet to place a feather-light peck on my cheek. I can feel the heat surface in my cheeks and it’s the first time ever that a girl makes me blush.
Luckily Huntley’s attention is drawn away from me when Hannah and Finley come darting down the hall. The girls squeal with unadulterated excitement when Huntley picks them up one-by-one. I watch in awe as Hannah and Finley launch into telling Huntley about their day, and what they did at school. The adoration on Huntleys’ face is unmistakable, as is the reverence on Hannah and Finley’s.
“Ok girls, it’s time for dinner.” Hannah looks up at me, her chocolate brown curls falling in her face and says, “Grayson, can I ride on your shoulders please?” She gives me those puppy dog eyes that Coach is always carrying on about and for the first time I understand. How in the hell do you turn down a four year old with a face like hers?
Simple. You just don’t.
I bend my knees until I’m face-to-face with Hannah. “Sure thing darlin’, hop on.”
She runs around me and hops onto my back, gripping her tiny little hands and fingers around my neck. Huntley is looking at me with a strange expression on her face but before I can say anything, Mrs. Coach calls us outside.
Huntley takes Finley’s hand and follows me outside to where everyone else is seated. For some reason I feel nervous having her here, so much so that I can feel my hands getting sweaty.
“Huntley, I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Coach says as she hugs Huntley. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she replies. Coach Morgan pulls her in for a hug and I notice that the look on his face is the same one he gets when he’s looking at his wife and daughters.
“Uh Mom,” I say, clearing my throat. Why am I so damn nervous to introduce Huntley to my mother? “This is Huntley Morgan.”
Huntley steps up to my mother and sticks out her hand, “Mrs. Carter, it’s so nice to meet you.”
Huntley’s surprised when my mother pulls her in for a hug rather than shaking her hand. “Sweetheart, call me May. Mrs. Carter is my mother-in-law.” The comment makes Huntley giggle. I want to bottle that sound and keep it all to myself.
My mother turns around to introduce her to my father, “This is my husband, Richard.”
“Mr. Carter it’s nice to meet you too.”
“Call me Richard,” my father replies happily. I watch in silence as Huntley is received by my parents. I can barely hear their talking above the sound of my rushing heartbeat.
We all take our seats and my nerves amplify when Huntley takes a seat next to me. Her warmth combined with her sweet scent is intoxicating and I can barely keep it together with her sitting so close. Coach Morgan says grace and we all start eating, quiet at first but then conversation soon flows amongst us.
My parents start asking Huntley all sorts of questions, starting off with the most obvious. I remain quiet, afraid that I will be incapable of stringing a single coherent sentence together. No need to make myself look like a mumbling idiot.