Grayson: An MM Friends To Lovers Romance

I’d never felt so strongly for another man in my thirty-eight years of life.

“What are you doing all the way up in these parts?” Cody asked, sipping a glass of whiskey. He motioned for me to sit, and I did.

“Giselle is getting married,” I said evenly, testing the waters.

“I heard. We RSVP’d you know. The fam and I.”

I nodded as a waiter came over to our table.

“Can I get you another, sir?” he asked, nodding to Cody’s drink.

“Sure. And my friend here will have…” Cody raised an eyebrow.

“Oh that’s not necessary, I—”

“It’s a drink, Gray. Not a marriage proposal,” Cody teased.

I debated what the right thing to do was, but I’d never been the best at making good decisions.

If I was going to go down in flames, why not let the whole town see I was on fire?

“I’ll just have a martini, dry—”

“Extra olives?” Cody said, grinning wickedly.

I nodded politely at the waiter, wishing he was someone else. A hotter waiter, with dark eyes, and sinful lips, and a heart of gold.

“You know what, scratch that. I’ll have a glass of the Kendall reserve, thanks,” I said, feeling more than agitated at Cody’s nonchalance. The waiter left, and I shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair.

“Am I that predictable?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“You have high standards. Nothing wrong with that. You know what you like.”

“Anyway, Giselle thought it would be a good bonding experience to bring the party up here to spend the weekend glamping. Well, the party plus some friends,” I said quickly, acutely aware it sounded like I’d come alone. Why I cared what this asshole thought was beyond my comprehension at the time.

“Glamping? That sounds like the gayest shit ever,” Cody drawled, leaning forward in his chair, bringing himself closer to me.

Once upon a time, I thought Cody was it. His preppy style, his bad boy charm.

I could more than see why my sister always talked about him when they were together, and after we started hooking up, I could more than see his appeal.

But as I sat there, talking to him, sharing a drink, I saw him for what he truly was.

A fuckboy.

And I had no time for fuckboys, not anymore.

I only had time for one person. One person, who I needed to tell how I felt.

“I need to go,” I said as I stood up, and Cody did too.

“Always on the run, Gray. You haven’t changed at all,” Cody said as he pulled me in for a hug.

I accepted, if only because it was a polite gesture, and that’s where I went wrong.

I’d misjudged Cody’s intentions, apparently. Because when he pulled away from the hug, he pulled me in closer, and planted a wet, drunken kiss on my lips.

“Just like old times,” he drawled sourly into my mouth.