by J. P. Grider
Because of the spell he has me under at the moment, my only response is a half-smile.
"You're even more fucking beautiful in the morning, California."
My whole body tingles from his words.
When he leans in to kiss me, I snap out of my hypnotic state and cast my hand over my mouth. Good Lord, I can't have him getting a whiff of my morning breath.
He croaks out a chuckle and kisses my forehead. Moving my hand from my mouth, he proceeds to kiss my lips, then my chin, then the bone just below my neck. But when his mouth finds the hollow between my breasts, and his tongue darts out in slow circular motions, moving right, moving left, I lose it. As if what he is doing to me right now is an extension of our love making last night, I writhe in ecstasy beneath him. His body drifts downward, as his tongue continues encircling my stomach. Momentarily dawdling at my bellybutton, he skims his tongue the rest of the way down my abdomen, before stopping right between my thighs. Slowly at first, then quickly building up speed, Griffin flits his tongue over my most sensitive area, causing me to clench the sheets to keep from wriggling too much. His tongue moves faster and faster, alternating between dipping deep inside and lightly flicking the delicate skin on the outside. When I've lost any connection with the outside world, from the deepest depths inside of me, I howl. Again. From the sound of Griffin's throaty groans, there's no need to feel embarrassed by my lack of control. He totally gets it.
Once I feel the scruff of his beard gently scraping against my stomach, I open my eyes to see a satisfied look in his. "You taste as good as you feel." He closes his eyes, brushes his lips to my forehead, then recaps, "So salty, so sweet. Fuck, you taste so good."
I lick my lips, getting totally turned on again from the way he's talking.
"Fuck, California. Holy Fuck." He rolls to his back and pulls me up on top of him. "Ohhhh," he moans, running those butterfly wing fingers of his down my center from my chin to where I'm sitting on top of him. "What took you so long to come into my life?"
I rock on top of him and grin. "Some things are worth the wait," I say, referring to me finally finding him and not the other way around.
A loud thud sounds from the bedroom door. "Okay, you guys," Holly shouts from the other side. "You've had plenty of time. We're hungry, and we're waiting on you to go to breakfast."
"God-damn," Griffin mutters. "Go without us," he says louder, for Holly's benefit.
"No way." She continues rapping on the door. "You got ten minutes."
Griffin's thumbs stroke my nipples while he bites his lips. "Your choice, California. Go with them, or stay here?"
"That's not a fair question," I murmur, so not wanting him to stop touching me.
"Why's that?" he asks, his thumbs still circling my breasts.
"Because," I whine. "I love just being here. You and me. Naked."
"But... you really have your heart set on seeing New York." He smiles, his thumbs never losing pace.
"Yeah," I say apologetically.
"Then New York it is."
28
Griffin
"Those were the best. Donuts. Ever," Cali declares.
"Actually," Rose cuts in. "They're Cronuts. Part croissant, part donut."
"Right. Cronuts." Cali chuckles, leaning her head on my shoulder as we walk, my arm draped around her, up Spring Street.
"And don't you forget it," I joke, kissing her on the temple.
"I still can't believe you got us up to the front of the line. Dominique Ansel is always so packed. I never get there in time for the Cronuts." Braden shoves the last piece of his second pastry into his mouth.
"That's what happens when your father advises the finances of the majority of the small establishments located in Manhattan," Holly boasts. "And I mean that in the most modest way," she laughs.
"She's being sarcastic," I whisper to Cali. The last thing I want is for her to get the wrong impression of my best female friend.
"You're father doesn't really advise their finances, does he?" Cali asks Holly.
"Oh, he does. I just hate it is all."
"Why?"
"Holly doesn't get along with her father," I explain.
"That's an understatement," Braden says.
"My father's an ass. So Cali, you enjoying the Big Apple?" Holly air quotes.
"Oh yeah. It's...it's so busy. So alive." Even though the signal says to walk, Cali still looks up and down the street checking for cars. "It's exactly how I'd imagined it. Better."
Because the sidewalk starts filling with more people, I take my arm from around Cali's shoulder, and grasp her hand. "There's no way I'm losing you in this crowd," I tell her.
"Oh, Griffin," Rose remarks. "What happened to that shell of a man you used to be?"
Braden, Holly, and Rose all start cracking up. Cali just looks confused.
Slowing my pace, to keep a bit of distance from the others, I gently tug Cali's hand. "I guess you're wondering what Rosalie, well, Rose, meant by that?"
My gaze on the ground in front of me, my left hand shoved deep in my pocket, I'm suddenly embarrassed by my past actions.
"I guess. What did she mean...shell?" Cali's eyebrows draw close, but she doesn't sound overtly concerned.
We've slowed up so much, that Braden, Holly, and Rose are now out of sight.
"I suppose I didn't treat my past acquaintances with much respect or...or much interest at all."
She nods. "Love 'em and leave 'em, I believe someone explained it?"
"I believe it was fuck 'em and leave 'em. There wasn't much loving going on."
With an affectionate tweak of my hand, Cali assures me she's not holding my past against me. At least I think that's what her tiny squeeze means.
"Calista?"
"Yeah?" she asks, smiling up at me.
"I wouldn't do that to you. That's what Rosalie was trying to say."
There's understanding in her eyes. "I think I do know that, Griffin," she says in all seriousness. "And thank you… for reassuring me."
I let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her shoulder again. It allows me to be closer to her. "I just didn't feel it with the others. I wasn't being mean," I feel the need to say, "I just...I never felt this way before."
She sucks in her breath, and though I can tell there are words sitting at the tip of her tongue, she keeps them to herself.
And I'm wondering if that little inhale was a good inhale.
Or a bad one.
29
Cali
Braden stops in front of a store called FiftyFiveDSL and blurts, “I need a shirt.”
“Lead the way,” Griffin says, taking my hand and pulling me into the store.
It’s a trendy place – small with wood floors and white floors. At first glance, it doesn’t seem pretentious, but when I look at the price tag of the nearest t-shirt, I realize I could never afford to shop here. As I’m looking around in amazement, Griffin lets go of my hand and walks away. Because I’m so busy flipping over price tags, in awe of the high prices, I don’t realize that Griffin is actually shopping until he shows up next to me… with two bags in his hand. “You bought something?” I ask, stunned that anyone can just walk into a place like this and buy something without flinching.
A big grin appears on his face. He takes my hand, walks me outside, and hands me one of the bags. “I bought you something,” he says proudly.
Trying not to frown, because I know he means well, I say, “I wish you hadn’t, I really don’t…”
“Open it, Cali. Please.”
In resignation, I pull the item out of the bag. It’s a small light-blue t-shirt.
“It says, ‘Above the Clouds’,” Griffin states. “Because you’re my angel… and when I’m with you, I’m in Heaven… and when I’m on top of you,” he winks, “I’m higher than the clouds.”
Okay. I can’t help but smile, and I’m sure I’m blushing. That is just too sweet. “Thank you,” I say into his cheek, kissing him for getting me something so t
houghtful. “So what’s in the other bag?”
He pulls out a white crew neck t-shirt with a photo print of two vinyl records sitting atop a turntable system.
“Cute,” I say, though I realize the shirt he bought for himself was one of the t-shirts I saw with the expensive price tag.
"Let's catch a cab and go to Central Park," Rose suggests, once everyone is back outside.
"Damn. If my father wasn't in Florida, we could have just called his driver," Holly brags.
"You have a driver?" I ask, surprised that anyone I know would have someone they pay to drive them around.
"Of course," she says with a shrug.
I look at Griffin and roll my eyes. Luckily he laughs and doesn't take my sarcastic eye roll the wrong way.
Watching Holly hail a cab is like watching Audrey Hepburn in action - grace amongst the ordinary. She exudes elegance. And it makes me feel so inferior.
All five of us pile into the cab. Holly sits up front. It doesn't take long to get to Central Park South. With tall, elegant, late 18th-early 19th century buildings surrounding it, and huge elm trees lining the stone-paved walkways, Central Park is amazing. Not at all how I'd pictured it.
"You like it here?" Griffin asks me quietly, while reaching for my hand just before passing a pretzel vendor.
Before I answer him, I blurt, "A New York City Pretzel?" Covering my mouth with my hand, I blush. "Sorry. Yes. I love it here."
Abruptly, Griffin stops, letting go of my hand to reach in his front pocket. When he pulls out his wallet, he says to the vendor, "One pretzel please. With salt."
"Griffin, we just ate," I say, still blushing, because of course I really do want a pretzel even though we just ate breakfast.
"We'll share," he says, breaking off half and giving it to me.
"Thank you."
"You two wanna hurry it up there," Braden says, several feet in front of us.
"What're we in a hurry for?" Griffin shouts.
Braden throws his thumb in Holly's direction. "Miss Chanel would like to visit Bergdoff's, if you don't mind," he jokes, then smirks.
"We'll catch up with you later," Griffin tells him. Then to me he says, "Unless you'd like to go with them?"
"No. I'm good." I take a bite of my hot soft pretzel and moan out loud.
"That good, huh?" Griffin jokes.
"Mmm," I moan, wiping the drool off the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. "It's got a smoky taste to it. Much better than the ones I get at Target."
Griffin flashes me one of his sweet grins. "Glad you're enjoying yourself." He takes my hand again and then bites off a piece of his own pretzel. "So tell me, California," of course this makes me blush, "what did you used to do for fun when you were a kid?"
"For fun?" I have to think about this. I don't recall having the most fun childhood, but I do remember there being some happy times. "Oh. Me and a couple of friends used to ride our big wheels down this huge hill where I used to live. That was fun."
"Where'd you used to live?"
"Haledon. Just a different apartment up on King Street. We used to ride them right down the middle of the street. A couple times we went flying right into Belmont Ave."
"Holy shit. That's a busy road."
"I know, right? We're lucky none of us got killed." I laugh, thinking that half the fun was knowing it was so dangerous.
Griffin laughs too. "What did your parents say?"
"They didn't know." I shrug. "We were left on our own after school and during the summers. All our parents worked. We did a bunch of crazy shit because there was no one to tell us not to."
Griffin frowns.
"It wasn't sad. That's just the way things were." I shrug again, because really, that's all we knew.
"What about food? Who fed you?"
I knit my eyebrows at Griffin. "What do you mean? We fed ourselves." I shake my head. "Didn't you make your own ramen noodles and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"
Griffin drops his head. "No. My mother did all that."
"Griffin."
He looks at me. "What? She stayed home. She took care of everything. That's just the way things were." He grins, letting go of my hand and slipping his arm around me.
"What about you?" I ask after swallowing the last of my pretzel. "What did Griffin Brooks do for fun as a child?" I pull away just slightly to look at his face.
"Hmmm. Well. High Tea in the afternoons was fabulous at the country club," he mocks in his most snooty rich-boy, Harvard-sounding voice. Then he throws his head back and laughs. "No. My brother and I built this huge tree house back when I was about nine. My dad bought us all this wood and material and we would spend every minute of every day in the back yard building it. When it was done, we painted it New York Mets colors." Griffin smiles. "Once it was done, we spent every minute of every day playing video games up there."
"Like Gameboy games?"
"No. Like Nintendo 64."
"But that needs electricity."
"Yeah. What's your point?"
"You wired your own electricity?" I say, not believing him.
He shakes his head and pulls me closer to him. "No. My dad hired someone to do it. Then he had a friend lift a TV and a couch up there. It was awesome."
I raise my eyebrows. "It sounds it. Was this at your old house?"
"Yeah." He sighs. "I miss that 'ole tree house."
"That's a nice memory though. You're close with your brother?"
"Yeah. He's a good guy."
An hour later, we catch up with Holly, Rose, and Braden outside Chanel, where they asked us to meet them.
"Hey, Cal, wanna come in with us?" Holly asks. "I just need to get more perfume. And maybe a pair of shoes."
"Sure," I shrug, looking at Griffin, silently asking him if it's okay.
"You guys go 'head," he says. "Braden and I'll wait out here."
Braden laughs. "Not secure enough in your manhood to go in?" he jokingly asks Griffin.
"Shut the fuck up," Griffin says, but follows us into the store.
Walking into the tiny store suddenly makes my stomach hurt. I'm not usually claustrophobic, but something about being inside a store like this makes me want to crawl under a rock. Holly leads us up the stairs at the back of the store.
"This is where the shoes are," she says in front of us.
As she peruses the shelves to decide which pair she wants to buy today, I pick up a display shoe and look at the price tag on the sole of the shoe. $1175.00. Holy shit. At first I think it reads $175.00, and I think wow that's high, but then I realize there are two ones in front of the seventy-five. And I thought the store that Griffin shopped in was too high-priced. What the hell? Who pays that much for shoes? So I pick up another shoe. And another. Not one is less than $675.00. Now my stomach is ready to hurl my Cronut and my pretzel. I feel literally sick to my stomach, because I do not belong here. Not by a long shot. When Holly sits down to wait for the salesperson to bring her the pair of Chanel shoes that she wants, I whisper to Rose, who is standing nearby, that I need to get some air. Slowly I turn around and walk down the stairs, trying not to attract too much attention. When I get outside, I search the streets for someone, anyone, who looks like me. Someone dressed in Walmart yoga pants and Target's One-Star Converse. Someone, anyone, whose jacket is not a trendy trench coat or Guess or Abercrombie, but just a plain, over-sized black hoodie.
Not one.
I am so out of my element that I wish I were invisible. Closing my eyes, I lean against a brick building and clutch my stomach. I need to get to where there are people like me.
"Cali." Griffin's voice sounds urgent. Then I feel his hand on my arm. "Are you feeling all right? Rose said you needed some air."
"Yeah. I did. I'm sorry. I just... Just not feeling well all of a sudden." I don't want to hurt his feelings and tell him I want to go home, so I blame it on feeling ill.
"Oh, Cal. I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten the pretzel so soon after you ate that huge donut t
hing. I'm really sorry."
I put my hand on his forearm. "No, Griffin. It's not that. I'll be fine. I feel better out here."
He sighs out loud. "Good."
Being with Griffin, I feel almost normal. Being with his friends, I feel inadequate. I know what people wear and how much money they have or haven't shouldn't define them, yet I still feel so inferior when I'm with the people who have it.
The rest of the day, when Rose and Holly go inside to shop, I stay outside with the guys. My stomach pain goes away and by the time we reach Time Square, I almost feel normal again - there are many people walking around the square that are dressed just like me.
30
Cali
Can't wait to see you this morning.
The next best thing to waking up next to Griffin is getting a text from him the moment I wake up Monday morning.
Can't wait to see you either. :), I reply, sighing against my pillow, wishing like anything it was still Sunday, and I was wrapped up in Griffin's strong arms. This past weekend felt like a dream. A week ago I would never have thought I'd be falling in love. Maybe I'm not. Maybe not yet. But the way that I feel when I'm with Griffin, if it isn't love, then it has to be close. No one's ever given me butterflies before. I'm a cool person - not very emotional at all. No real highs, no real lows. But lately it seems like someone has plugged me into an outlet and turned me on. That someone - Griffin Brooks.
With the day's outfit dangling over my arm, I notice the living room light on as I pass to go take a shower.
"Mom?" I'm surprised to see her at my father's bedside.
She looks up at me with tired eyes.
"What are you doing home? Usually you're already on your way to work."
"Millicent's sick. Throwing up." Mom rubs the area between her shoulder and neck.
"So you're taking off of work?"
"I have to, Calista. If Dad has to go to the bathroom, or eat..."
"Go to work. I'll stay home," I say, disappointed that I won't see Griffin in class, but feeling obligated to take care of my father. "We need the money. I can miss my classes."
