“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mark said with a smile.
“Have you tried the pumpkin tarts? They’re great,” Leon said.
Mark made a face. “Not a fan. Sorry, Griff.”
Griffith blinked, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his choices. “Well, there’s a variety. Maybe the stuffed peppers would be more up your street,” he said and stole a chair the moment one of their guests vacated it.
Leon laughed and poked Griff’s shoulder. “Let the man starve if he’s so picky. Do you study law too, Mark, or are you from a different group of friends?”
Mark had a sip of something from a whiskey glass. “I’m just a neighbor. Or am I?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Griffith swallowed. “What else would you be?”
“Can’t you tell I’m a generic eighties Bond villain?”
Griff burst out with a laugh so loud he was surprised by it himself and quickly suppressed it. He silently applauded Mark for incorporating the eyepatch as an element of his outfit, although Griff wondered if the insistent questions hadn’t hurt Mark’s feelings. And had he given all those different answers while “in character”, or was it just his way of dismissing the fact that people noticed? In truth, Griff had been wondering what had happened to Mark, but asking had never felt appropriate.
Or maybe, just maybe, Mark was that good at lying because he really was a con man.
“See? Griff doesn’t believe me. To him, I’m just a student”
“Oh! What do you study?” asked Chiara, swirling wine in her glass.
“Photography.”
Leon laughed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Meh, there’s not much money in that.”
Mark frowned, and now all his attention was on Leon. “Do I look like I need money?”
His answer caused a brief pause.
Suddenly everyone but Leon burst out laughing.
Chiara patted Leon’s shoulder. “Buuurn, mate! Burn.”
Griffith hid his mouth behind his hands, because he didn’t want to openly make fun of Leon, but he believed his rudeness had been properly punished. He was used to people just changing the topic in such situations, so Leon’s next move came as a total surprise, taking the unpleasant conversation to another level.
“But that’s interesting. Does your eye situation affect your photography?”
Griffith’s gaze moved to Mark, who’d once again been disrespected at a party Griff hosted. He hadn’t been this embarrassed in a while. “I think we’re all more interested in what kind of photography you do,” he said a bit louder.
Mark drank a bit more. “No, that’s okay. Having one eye has no influence on my photography. Shooting took a bit of practice to get used to.”
Leon raised his eyebrows. “Shooting? Is this the Bond villain talking now, or Mark?”
Griffith gave a soft laugh. “He does have a gun,” he said, reaching for the plastic firearm under Mark’s armpit but not quite touching it. His hand hovered in the air, and the weight of everyone’s stares pushed it right back into Griff’s lap.
Leon shook his head and wouldn’t stop bothering Mark. “How about we test your aim in a game of darts?”
“Are you sure? You’ve had a bit to drink,” Mark said, causing a roar of laughter from the people who’d gathered around them, drawn to the feud like wasps to a pot of honey.
Even Leon grinned as he got up. “Can you believe this cocky fucker? Where’s the dartboard, Griff?”
Griffith rose in sync with Mark and pointed in the general direction of the board, where a couple of guests entertained themselves with the game, but whether because of the liquor they’d had or lack of skill, their aim wasn’t impressive.
“Are you guys really doing this?” Griffith asked Mark quietly.
Mark shrugged and patted Griff’s shoulder in passing. “Yeah, why not?”
Griffith exhaled and shook his head gently. After all, this was only a game. Who won and who lost would soon be forgotten, and he crossed his fingers that the competition would clear the air.
Who was Griff kidding? With Leon constantly making jabs at Mark for no apparent reason, the tension would only dissipate if Leon won.
Still, Griffith stepped right back into his host shoes and approached the board. “Guys, how far are you from finishing the game? We have two serious competitors,” he said, gesturing at Mark and Leon.
One of the players waved his hand in resignation. “Err, carry on, we weren’t counting the points.”
Nisha wrapped her arm around Griff’s, emerging out of nowhere. “What’s going on?”
When Griff quickly explained, she squealed with glee and grabbed a cleared food tray to put darts on it and act as a hostess.
Griffith reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Heads or Tails?” he asked Mark.
“You choose for me,” Mark said with a cocky grin, and the sudden pressure of the decision made Griff stall with his lips parted.
Leon rolled his eyes. “Heads.”
The flipped coin designated Leon as the one to start, and he made sure to alert everyone in the room about the darts duel for the ages. He even had Tim lower the sound of the music, which naturally made people aware of the grand games at Griff and Nisha’s flat.
Leon took his time aiming, and when the dart found its target, it struck quite close to the bullseye.
Griffith did his best to avoid favoritism, but for all his faults, Mark didn’t deserve to be put in this position. So he was disabled and didn’t want to be seen as weaker. Of course he’d let Leon pull him into this.
But when Mark’s turn came, and he got the dart in not that far off from the middle of the board, he suddenly became the crowd’s underdog favorite, and the game continued in a surprisingly even fashion. Dart after dart, the points on the scoreboard run by Nisha remained similar. Griff was pretty sure he’d even heard a bet going on behind his back.
They’d been friends with Leon for quite a while, so it was a sobering experience to see him being so mean to a guy he barely knew. Leon was a few points in the lead, but the last dart belonged to Mark. The room went quiet, and Griff’s heartbeat became a furious thumping in his ears.
Mark’s dart hit the target, but when Nisha wrote down the result, the tie was obvious and disappointing to the crowd.
“You’re lucky I’m drunk,” Leon sniped as he tried to walk away, but Mark wouldn’t let it go and grabbed his arm.
Griff’s eyes went wide. No, no, no! There would be no fights at his party!
“You’re lucky it’s darts. I’m much better with knives,” Mark said.
It was as if the whole room drew a collective breath.
“Oh, my God, we are so doing this!” Nisha announced and rushed off toward the kitchen before Griffith could stop her.
“You what? You’re really going to throw knives in a room full of people?” Griffith asked, pretending amusement, even though he was terrified that something could go wrong, and the party would end up with red streaks on pristine walls and a visit to the hospital.
Mark shrugged, and Griffith could have sworn he winked, but it was hard to tell when someone had only one eye. “Everyone make sure to stand out of the way.”
Leon crossed his arms. “This is so dumb.”
Nisha came up to them with a platter. “Here’s all the knives we’ve got,” she said with a wide grin.
“Five? Get them in a straight line. Vertical or horizontal.” Mark grabbed a knife to an audience of gasps and whispers.
Leon nodded and waved his hand dismissively, but he was shifting his weight over and over. Nervous.
“Everyone stay back,” Griffith said. Even the music stilled, drowning the room in whispers and laughs. People were downing shots and pushing their way forward to see the competition better, but Griffith’s attention was solely on the chef’s knife in Mark’s hand.
Mark weighed the knife for a second, but then, with no further ado, stood in front of the board and swung his arm, landing
the knife at the bottom of the thick plank of wood and cork used to secure the wall around the dart board.
Leon snorted. “That’s pretty far off target.”
Mark shook his head and continued, to the amusement of the crowd. He landed the next knife above the dart board, creating two points that could be connected by a vertical line.
The crowd went silent, waiting for Mark’s next move, and so did Griffith. Flushed with heat, he watched Mark choose his next projectile. He briefly weighed it in his hand, since each of the knives was different, and then threw, landing it halfway between the first knife and the bullseye. Griff didn’t miss that Mark didn’t just use his hand either, instead engaging his entire body into the throw.
The next knife was also perfectly aligned with the others, but when Mark picked up his final tool, the tension in the air thickened. Instead of exploiting the attention he was getting, Mark tossed the knife, and it struck right in the middle, causing an eruption of cheers.
People pushed close to pat the skillful knife thrower on the back and already offer their congratulations, but the stream of bodies forced Griffith to retreat by a few steps when he wanted to be close enough to pat Mark on the back himself
“It’s just a party trick,” Mark said, somewhat flushed, as if the attention was making him shy.
“Move aside people!” Leon roared. “We’re not done here!”
Griffith sighed, because after Mark’s performance they most definitely were. Leon was the only one who didn’t know that yet.
When Leon took the steak knife, the tension in Griffith’s body turned his joints into lead. Even the way he held the blade reflected nothing of the confidence Mark had. He gasped when the knife flew through the air and hit the wooden board before jumping off to fall to the floor with a loud clatter. The guests gave a collective gasp, retreating as if they too understood their safety could not be guaranteed. Leon’s second attempt didn’t even land within the broad window of the wood and cork, leaving the wall with a dent in the plaster. That was when Nisha stepped in and refused to give him another knife.
Reddening even on his nape, Leon leaned in to grab the fallen knife, but Griffith got to it before him. Their eyes met for a tense second, but he knew just the way to save the situation. Misdirection. “Let’s play something everyone can participate in.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Kenneth asked from the crowd and Nisha grinned.
“Everyone’s favorite! Spin the bottle!”
Chapter 6 - Griffith
It soon became clear that not everyone was interested, which was a relief to Griff, who’d gladly leave this to Nisha. This was not a teenage rom-com, and he’d had enough kissing for the day. But just as he was about to sink into the crowd and grab himself some more wine, a surprisingly strong hand pulled at his arm.
“Come on. You’re the host, you need to play,” Nisha insisted, dragging him out of the dance studio.
The group of eager, drunk players consisted of about ten people, and Nisha led them all to her room which had a massive built-in wardrobe and infinite numbers of pillows to sit and lean on.
Griff looked back at the party going on in the dance room, worried how things would go without hosts present, but protests died on his lips when he spotted Mark tailing them. Pulled by the hand by Chiara, he was putting up some resistance but still followed everyone into Nisha’s room.
The space was wonderfully girly, with diffusers of jasmine-scented perfume, cute plants, and a string of fairy lights hung above the bed. Griffith normally enjoyed sitting here with Nisha, spread out on the kingsize bed as they talked. Tonight however, the room was making him nervous.
The small group of people took their time, and it soon became clear that almost all of them were far more intoxicated than Griffith—yet another thing that made him stress out. What if some of the people attending their party couldn’t hold their liquor and puked somewhere? And instead of monitoring the situation in the sitting room and dance studio, he was locked up in Nisha’s boudoir about to watch Mark kiss girls.
“So what are the rules?” asked Janet, Kenneth’s girlfriend, pushing herself under his arm. Griffith wasn’t sure about their presence here. As a couple, shouldn’t they not kiss other people? Wouldn’t this game devolve into a screaming match if one of them were to snog someone else?
Nisha held up an empty bottle of craft beer. "Okay, guys. Rules. One person spins the bottle, and whoever it lands on, you have to kiss them quick. On the mouth. Five seconds. You hesitate ten seconds, you gotta snog them. You hesitate more—five minutes in the wardrobe.” She wiggled her eyebrows and pointed to the large sliding doors taking up the entire length of her wall. Griff was pretty sure she’d be regretting these rules tomorrow, but oh well, it wasn’t his clothes that’d be getting wrinkled and trampled.
Nisha continued. “I’m the judge, and if I allow an exception because of special circumstances then the snog passes to the next person down the line. Clockwise.”
Kenneth’s eyes were wide. “Oh, man. That’s intense.”
Mark laughed and took off his gloves.. “I didn’t know there were so many rules to this.”
Nisha pointed the bottle at him. “Well, there are. Spin the bottle is serious business.”
“You never played spin the bottle? I thought it was popular on the other side of the pond,” Kenneth said with a wide smile.
Mark ran his fingers through his hair, ruining the slicked-back look. “Never got the chance.”
Between the knife-throwing, the eyepatch, the bold answer about money… what was Mark’s deal? Griff had no idea where to place him in social hierarchy.
Nisha passed Mark the bottle. “Well, today’s your lucky day. Newbie goes first.”
Griffith, who sat between Nisha and a girl from her class called Lucy, couldn’t help but watch Mark’s lean body casually stretch as he reached for the bottle and spun it like this was no big deal.
It rotated evenly, and every time its neck passed Griffith, he got the oddest case of goose bumps on his back, even though it was warm. In the end Janet was the lucky one, but despite her boyfriend sitting right next to her, she leaned forward in the same moment as Mark. Their lips touched, and the five seconds tapped on the floor by Nisha seemed to last for ages. Griffith had no idea what to think by the time Mark pulled away and winked at Janet.
It was her turn next, and she pretended to hesitate when the bottle pointed to Kenneth, so that they made out for longer, and the game went on with sneaky drinks added as they all laughed and adhered to judge-Nisha’s rules. Griffith’s entire body heated up when the bottle had Kenneth kissing a guy from Nisha’s classes. Griffith had half-expected protests, but everyone was perfectly casual about this, and the game went on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Nisha then kissed Lucy, and Lucy ended up getting Griffith, who leaned in, nervous that if he hesitated he’d have to snog her.
The moment he put his hand on the bottle to spin it himself, his heart did a weird backflip, and he put all his force into not looking up at Mark. What if someone noticed? In some ways, spin the bottle was more intense than poker.
The rotation seemed to go on forever, with Griffith’s heart marking each circle with a beat. The tension rose in his veins as the bottle slowed down very close to Mark’s firm legs, but in the end, it pointed at Nisha.
He leaned forward, desperate to get through it in the quickest form, but Nisha raised her arms. “No! I can’t do it! He’s like my brother!”
“Time’s ticking,” Janet said and laughed so hard she spilled some of her drink down her dress.
A short kiss would have been bearable. What Griffith definitely did not want was to stick his tongue into Nisha’s mouth. As lovely as she was, he just didn’t want to. But he wasn’t one to chicken out either.
“No it’s not. I’m the judge, and I think this is an exception. We live together, and we’ve known each other for ages. It would be super weird. Mark, you’re up.”
; Mark’s gaze met Griffith’s, wide as if he’d been pulled out of a daydream, but the countdown had already started. “Huh?”
Griffith frowned at her, not entirely sure what she meant. That Griff would just skip this kiss? It didn’t make much sen—
“You’re hesitating,” Kenneth said and pushed Griffith forward hard enough for him to stiffen and refuse to move.
“But... I should just spin once more,” he said, keeping his gaze everywhere but on Mark’s face. He could barely hear what was happening around him from the furious pulsing in his ears.
"No, Griff. Next person, clockwise. I don't make the rules,” Nisha said, though actually, she had made the rules.
Kenneth nudged Griff again. “Come on, Griff. I’ve kissed Gary. It’s no excuse. You’re almost at ten seconds…”
Mark moved forward. “You wanna—”
“Time’s up! Wardrobe!” Janet yelled a bit too excitedly. “We have our first wardrobe!”
Griffith’s stomach turned into a tight ball that he wished were made entirely of anxiety, but interwoven into the threads and bundled up at its core was curiosity. Excitement that he couldn’t name. “Already?”
“Griff, if you’re too much of a chicken to kiss a guy, then you shouldn’t be playing this game,” Gary said. “Get over yourself. No one’s asking you for a blo—”
He shut up when Nisha put a hand over his mouth with a fake smile. “You finished? Thanks. Mark. Griff. Wardrobe.”
Griff’s hands were getting clammy already. He'd be kissing Mark, and he'd have an excuse for it too. The perfect crime.
Mark stood up and spread his arms in a helpless gesture. “I clearly don’t know how to play this game.”
His words sank deep into Griffith like two icicles. Was he so unhappy about having to connect physically with Griffith? What if they just stayed in the wardrobe for five minutes and waited it out? It would have been the most awkward five minutes of Griffith’s life.
“Go on then. Surf the waves,” Kenneth said, grinning widely and sending Griffith off with an encouraging gesture.
The cheering felt accusatory to Griff’s ears, but he wouldn’t chicken out, no matter how deeply uncomfortable this situation made him.
A Breath of Innocence Page 7
