CHAPTER NINETY-TWO PRISONER

GREYSON’S POV "Go out with me," he repeats, and I open and close my mouth when more words refuse to come out. He folds his arms and regards me impassively before scoffing life lightly. "What in the world are you waiting for? Is this a tough decision for you to make?" he asks, and I rub my face with my palms. "I'm just a little stunned," I confess, and he stares at me unbelievably before shaking his head. "So let's get this straight: we live together, we sleep in my bed with my clothes, I've been intimate with you, and I'm always finding ways to be around you, but this question you should have seen coming from a mile away is stunning." He asks slightly, raising the pitch of his voice. "Well, I just thought you were being nice, and besides, you must've done this for other girls," I argue, but it seems stupid to say even to myself now. I didn't want to get my hopes up. "Nice? Nice? No nice is when you open the door for the next person; nice is when you let an imbecile take the ea