HISS KISS
By Melanie Marks
Copyright 2011 Melanie Marks
All Rights Reserved.
HIS KISS
by
Melanie Marks
Griffin shut his locker, then did a double-take when he saw I was standing there, waiting for him. He tilted his head with his usual smirk. Only, it wasn’t exactly his usual smirk. He looked perplexed, but sort of happy too. It was like he was trying to figure it out, mentally scratching his head: Why would shy little Ally Grange be standing at my locker?
He cocked his head further, quirking an eyebrow. “You looking for me?”
I sucked in my breath and gave a slight nod.
His lips twitched, obviously entrained by my discomfort. “What’s up?”
I bit my lip. Good question.
Tugging at the hem of my sweater, I took a deep breath, trying to summon up a little courage. I needed it. ‘Cause Griffin wasn’t exactly considered a nice guy. In fact, he was considered a terror on the hockey rink and not much different off it. And I wasn’t exactly Miss Confident when it came to mean people. I shied away from confrontation—any confrontation—and tormentors—at all cost, but here I was, seeking out Griff the Grief-Master.
He smirked again, his eyes twinkling with a strange combination of curiosity mixed with amusement. “Just spit it out.”
“Aiden Hanks,” I blurted like a cough. “He’s my …”
When I choked again Griffin finished for me still looking curious. “Your boyfriend.”
I nodded, surprised. I didn’t know Griffin knew that. I didn’t know he knew who I was.
Griffin grinned, light dawning. He had definitely figured it out. “Oh, you’re here to beg me not to bash his face in.” He tossed his history book from one hand to the other, looking amused. “The twerp sent you?”
“No!” I rushed out my next words to stop him from getting the wrong idea. “Aiden doesn’t know I’m talking to you.”
He grinned. “Then why are you talking to me?”
“Because—like you said, I don’t want you to bash his face in.” I stared into Griffin’s twinkling eyes. “Please don’t.”
I don’t know where that came from—me being brave enough to stare into The Griff’s eyes. Maybe it was because he kept smiling at me, acting like I was fun to talk to, or look at, or something.
Griffin leaned against his locker and wet his pink, kewpie-doll lips. He gazed at me intently a moment, then up at the ceiling. Finally he groaned, letting out a breath, and looked back into my eyes.
“Look,” he said, for once sounding serious, “I have to. The punk talked trash about me in front of the whole team. It’s not like I can ignore it.”
“Yes you can!” I said, following at his heels as he started to walk away.
I said it again, all squeaky and desperate this time since he was ignoring me. “Yes you can!”
Griffin kept walking, so I kept following, like a puppy dog begging for attention, yipping at his ankles.
“Please, can’t you? Please?”
I grabbed on to his arm out of desperation. That was all, just to get his attention since he had apparently ditched listening to me. But when I grabbed onto his arm he abruptly stopped walking. I mean, he froze.
Yikes! My chest went tight. What had I done?
Griffin turned back to me and stared at my hand on his arm. I snatched it away lightening fast, terrified he was going to hit me for touching him or being annoying or something. But when he didn’t push me down or pound me to the ground or do anything but stare at me with his gorgeous long-lashed eyes, I swallowed finally going on with my plea while I had his attention—only now I was shaking and unnerved on even more levels. I mean, The Griff was … hot. He was. I wasn’t really paying attention to that before, since I was pleading for my boyfriend’s life, but now that Griffin was looking at me like that—well, I noticed. And it distracted me, even now while I was petrified.
Still, even though my mind reeled from that, I managed to squeak out, “I have some money—not much, but …”
Griffin smirked, then shook his head. “I don’t want your money.”
For some reason, that made my stomach feel funny. I guess because of the way he said it. And the way he looked at me when he said it. It pushed my pulse into over-drive and got my heart pounding.
“Then what?” My voice hitched. “What can I do?”
A sardonic grin played on Griffin’s lips as he eyed me. Then he lifted his chin and challenged. “Kiss me.”
My stomach fluttered. “Wh—what?”
Griffin’s eyes twinkled. “You heard me.”
I stared at him. He had to be kidding. Had to be. Only he didn’t look like he was kidding or sound like he was kidding. He looked and sounded amused, teasing, but still, serious. Like it was all funny to him—getting Aiden Hank’s girlfriend all worked up and sweating—but he’d let Aiden off the hook if I did what he said. Those were his terms. He had offered me a deal. Only … it was weird.
“You,” I swallowed, feeling slightly dizzy, like maybe this moment wasn’t really real. Like maybe I had fainted from fright when I first started talking to The Griff and now I was hallucinating or daydreaming or something. “You—you want me to kiss you?”
He set his jaw, but he was still smiling. “Yeah. Kiss me and I won’t kill your boyfriend.”
A strange feeling washed over me—a tingling combination of excitement and horror. I backed away, and leaned against the lockers behind me for support. I was all wobbly and sweaty and shaking as I tried to get my brain to actually work—to think. “Um…”
Really? That was all I had to do? Kiss him and Aiden was off the hook? It didn’t seem possible. Or right. There had to be more to it than that. After all, I wasn’t exactly Miss Sexy, far from it. Boys didn’t even usually notice me. Not that I was ugly, I guess. Aiden said I was “beautiful.” But then, Aiden was my boyfriend. And sweet. The Griff wasn’t either of those.
“I don’t understand.”
Griffin shot me this adorable lopsided grin. It got my heart all confused and fluttery. “Yes you do.”
Mmmmm.
My pulse convulsed into a wild frenzy, my mind too. I bit my lip, trying to figure out the catch. There had to be one. Had to. Though Griffin was known as a troublemaker at our school, he was cute, adorable even. There was a certain “type” of girls that were always hanging on him—a type that was not at all like me. They were loud and forward and experienced with boys. I wasn’t like that. At all. And I wasn’t the type of girl that boys pined after. I was “nice” and “caring” and sure, maybe on a good hair-day, “pretty.” But that was about it. No way were boys lining up to kiss me. I doubted they even thought about me. So no, I didn’t get it. What was going on?
It had to be something slimy.
“That’s all I have to do?” I said skeptically. “Kiss you—nothing more?”
Griffin raised his eyebrows, his lips curling into a grin. “You can do more if you want.”
Jerk! Humiliated, I started to slink away.
But Griffin grabbed my arm, gently pulling me back to him. “Geez, I was just messing with you, Grange.”
Grange? He knew my last name?
His eyes danced as he leaned in close, close enough his warm breath tickled my neck as he asked, “So, we have a deal?”
I backed away from him, trying to think. It would get Aiden out of trouble and it was just one little kiss. But … it was with a delinquent.
Then again, my best friend, Jazz, was always saying I needed to loosen up and walk on the wild side. Of course, Griffin Piper was way more wild than what Jazz had meant. Jazz had meant wear bright purple rather than pastels. She didn’t mean date the school’s bad boy.
But …
<
br /> But nothing! Aiden would get his sweet little face smashed to bits by The Griff if I didn’t do this. I couldn’t let that happen.
I took a deep breath, terrified. What would The Grief Master’s kiss be like? I was a little bit curious, but mostly scared. I’d only kissed two boys in my entire life. I wasn’t experienced by a long shot and I was still slightly nervous that I couldn’t trust The Griff—that it wasn’t really just a kiss he wanted, though it did seem he had only made the deal to make me squirm. I mean, he just seemed entertained—like it would be fun either way: to bash Aiden’s face in or make his girlfriend freak out.
I nodded that we had a deal, then I gulped—big.
Griffin noticed; he grinned. “Don’t look so scared, Grange. I’m a good kisser.”
That in no way calmed my nerves. It only made my face burn and my cheeks turn a million shades of red, but somehow I was pretty sure that’s what he wanted.
His eyes twinkled as he watched me prepare for the kiss, eyeing me wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and pump my fists a couple times, trying to psyche myself up. Finally, I puckered my lips and leaned in for the kiss.
Griffin watched me with quirked eyebrows, looking amused. Finally, he gave a soft laugh. “Not here.”
His eyes danced as I blinked up at him in confusion. What was he talking about? Not here? Where? Panic rushed through me. What exactly had I agreed to?
Griffin gave another soft laugh. “In room 204. At three.” He leaned in close again, playing with a tendril of my hair. “You’ll survive. I promise.”
***
When I got to room 204, Griffin was already there. He was sitting on a desk, bouncing a rubber ball.
“About time,” he muttered, hopping off the desk.
What? I glanced at the clock on the wall directly over his head. It was only 3:02. Two minutes late.
Griffin eyed me as I gawked at the clock.
My face turned red. Oh, now I got it. I could tell by his smirk he was only kidding.
“Come here,” he said.
His words and the way he said them, all husky and quiet, made me start to sweat, but also feel butterflies bat around in my stomach. I stood in the open doorway, unable to move.
Griffin sighed with a slight grin and came over to me. Gently, gently he took my hand, pulling me out of the threshold and silently closed the door. Then he gently backed me up against the door he just closed, pinning me there, but in a half-playful, half-seductive way that had my knees weak and my heart fluttering.
“Take it easy,” Griffin murmured softly, like I was a wild colt that needed soothing so I didn’t bolt away. His fingers lightly stroked my hair. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grange. I promise.”
His hands—just touching me—was like electricity shooting through my body. My breath caught and I made this slight moaning sound. It was embarrassing and yet I couldn’t really focus on it or anything that was happening. All I could think about was his lips. They looked so soft and pink and shiny.
I’d thought about them before actually, lots of times, dreamed of them. Every night for a while. Back in junior high I’d had this mad, monster crush on him. It was embarrassing and stupid and crazy since he didn’t even know I was alive. And, yeah, he was a thug.
Still, it made this moment … surreal.
My head was swimming. I had all these wild, scattered thoughts dashing around in my brain, but they all came back to this: I’m going to kiss The Griff, The Grief Master! It had my heart pumping frantic and my pulse zooming wild.
Gripping the door behind me for support, I wondered if I was going to faint. It seemed like maybe I was. Or have a heart attack. Something dramatic and embarrassing like that.
I squeezed my eyes shut wondering what it would be like kissing The Griff for real. Would he be like out on the hockey rink—rough and tough? Would he give me whiplash? Somehow, I didn’t think so. If his kiss was anything like his touch just now, or like in my junior high macking dreams, I was going to explode and die from delight.
Full of curiosity I leaned in for the kiss.
But there was nothing. No mouth crashing into mine, no I love you, Ally confessed in my ear. No nothing. I leaned in further and waited.
And waited.
Still … nothing.
Finally, cautiously, I peeked my eyes open just a squint wondering what was up but afraid that my face was right next to his.
It wasn’t.
Griffin was just watching me, his seductive brown eyes glistening like he knew exactly what had been going on in my brain. He gave a husky little laugh and then (oh!) he drew his soft, pink lips against mine, just brushing them—lightly, tenderly.
Though it felt oh-so-good—or maybe because it did—I tensed and jerked a bit. Just a tiny bit, but still, I jerked.
“Relax.” Griffin’s sexy, pink lips hovered over mine, just barely—teasing me, making me yearn. Then his hot mouth pressed against mine for real.
Only for a second though, because just then Mrs. Finkle barged into the room from the side-door, which connects to Mr. Johnson’s class. The large woman plopped down her armload of books on the nearest desk but we didn’t really notice. We didn’t notice anything except our tongues and heat and passion. Well anyway, that was all I noticed— until her loud, booming voice made me jump a mile in the air.
“I’m going to give you two exactly one second to clear out of my classroom,” Mrs. Finkle huffed impatiently. “Then I’m handing out detention slips.”
***
So, that was the first time I kissed “Griff the Grief-Master.” And I—at the time—wasn’t even sure it counted. I mean, it counted for me because it was amazing. I’d felt tingles all the way down to my toes. Seriously. Tingles. It had me in a dreamy, hormone-induced daze for hours.
But I wasn’t sure if The Griff would count it as a real kiss since we’d only barely touched lips—well, tongue—when Mrs. Finkle barged in and interrupted. Dang her!
Anyway, I wasn’t sure Griffin would count it as a real kiss.
So, as my best friend, Jazz, and I waited to meet up with Aiden after his hockey practice I was incredibly anxious. Jazz and I sat huddled over our trig books in the school library pretending to be doing equations, but really we worrying and discussing whether The Griff had punched in my boyfriend’s face or not.
I hadn’t told Jazz about the kiss or what Griffin had said—that if I kissed him he wouldn’t kill Aiden. I’m not sure why I kept it from her. I basically tell her everything. But I didn’t tell her that. I guess I was kind of embarrassed about it or felt slightly guilty about it or something. I’m not sure what exactly. But I just couldn’t bring it up.
Anyway, I gave a literal sigh of relief when Aiden finally came into the library—his adorable face still intact. I sighed again as he slid into the seat beside me and grinned, showing off his little cute dimples. Love!
“I saw Griffin at practice,” Aiden said, leaning in close and talking confidential-like as we were in the library where you aren’t supposed to talk, and so that anyone that didn’t already know The Griff had a beef with Aiden didn’t find out now—add fuel to the drama flame.
Another smile crept on Aiden’s adorable lips as he went on whispering to me animatedly, obviously still on a high from his escape from near death. “When Griffin showed up at practice—late—I was ready to have it out—totally ready to die—right there, at practice. And The Griff made a move toward me, like ‘I’m going to kill you, punk.’ But then he laughed and said, “Nah, just kidding. We’re square.”
Aiden chuckled, like it was hilarious, but I knew it was just relief. He’d been scared, even more scared than he was letting on. Aiden had wanted to fit in with “the guys” on the hockey team. But he wasn’t like them. He was sweet. When he tried to be “tough” it just pissed everyone off. The guys on the team called him a “poser.” It hurt his feelings, and definitely if he got his face smashed in by The Griff that wouldn’t have helped.
So, deep inside me
things were gushy and excited. My heart was doing acrobats. Griffin had let Aiden off the hook—because of me. Because of my kiss. How cool! My kiss had saved my boyfriend’s pretty face. Awesome, awesome!
I felt all warm and tingly and tried telling myself that it was just because I was glad Aiden was okay and intact and didn’t get pounded to the ground in front of his teammates. But I wasn’t really sure that was the only reason. I mean, I wanted it to be the only reason, but I was afraid it also had to do with The Griff—that he had let Aiden save-face (literally) because of me. I felt … touched.
Jazz raised her eyebrows then furrowed them, obviously astounded by the unexpected turn of events. “We’re square? Griffin said that? We’re square?”
She said it again, incredulously, like: No way.
Aiden shrugged, still smiling. “That’s what he said.”
Jazz didn’t look convinced. “Maybe he wants it to be a surprise attack.”
Aiden shrugged again. “I don’t think so. He seemed in a good mood—like he just aced a test or something. He let me off the hook—we’re square.”
“Griffin Piper doesn’t let people ‘off the hook,’” Jazz said knowingly, like she was all up on Griffin. “He’d beat you up on principle alone. You called him a Neanderthal.”
Aiden didn’t miss a beat. “He is.”
“Yeah, but see, that’s just it,” Jazz said. “He has a reputation to uphold.”
I traced my lips, still feeling the warmth of Griffin’s hot mouth, or imagining I could. Obviously, Jazz was wrong. Griffin didn’t care about maintaining his bad-boy reputation as much as she thought. Apparently.
Either that or … he wanted to kiss me pretty bad. The thought made my body kind of spastic and had all the hairs on my arms standing on end. Only that was nothing compared to my heart. It was beating all crazy. But it was dumb to get so worked up over the ridiculous thought. I knew that. It wasn’t like Griffin had a “thing” for me or anything. He didn’t. I knew that. I don’t think he even ever noticed me before.
His Kiss Page 1
