You were practically bursting with energy. Grayson was melancholy and tired.

He was sat up in his large bed, back rested against his wooden headboard. He has his glass perched on the bridge of his nose, typing away on his computer.

You were sat facing him, legs side by side. My hand was resting on his calf, thumbing rubbing and down soothingly.

"And then I was trying to tell Amber about her boyfriend when she told me she already knew!" you tell him excitedly.

You were still in highschool, a senior who just turned 18. Grayson had graduated a year before you, 19, so you had to keep him in the loop with all the drama.