His Kiss

by Melanie Marks

  He always seemed like that. Like he had a wisecrack on the tip of his tongue. So, it was hard to read him.

  Anyway, I didn’t want him to talk about the gummy bears, no way. If he said a word about them my cover would be blown. I’d turn all red and start stammering or laughing hysterically. Something. Totally give myself away. So, I couldn’t give him a chance to talk.

  I flipped open my cell phone and immediately started talking on it, acting as though I’d just gotten a call.

  “I’m on my way,” I said into the dead phone, and then I added in a grumbling voice, “I missed the bus.”

  I went on talking more and more, feeling like a lunatic, chatting about the piano recital I’d been in last week; I wanted Griffin to know I was musical too, like him, but mostly I was anxious not to talk about gummy bears.

  When I hung up, I smiled up at Griffin, all breezy, like my heart wasn’t about to pounce out of my chest.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Surprisingly, my voice was calm and peppy, as though I accepted rides with bad-boys everyday and was just doing my usual. “Can you drop me off at my friend Jazz’s? She lives just up the block and to your right. She’s expecting me.”

  I don’t know why I added that last part. It wasn’t like it was a threat—like Jazz is expecting me and if I don’t show up within five minutes she’s going to send the police out looking for me.

  I mean, I wasn’t afraid Griffin was going to abduct me or anything. But then, he was a very tough guy and I didn’t really know him at all. It was almost like I’d accepted a ride with a stranger—one that I’d kissed three times now, and dreamed about constantly. Still, I didn’t know him. All I knew was he was trouble on the ice—and in school. Back in junior high, he and Jake used to get detention practically every day.

  Still, I was embarrassed that I’d added the “She’s expecting me,” so I quickly tacked on, “We’re, um, doing a project together—for the school play. A fund raiser.”

  We were doing all that—but not today. Today I was just going to show up at her house unexpectedly—and freak her out if she saw me pull up in Griffin’s car. More likely though, Destiny would see. She lived right across the street and she had this uncanny instinctual radar for Griffin and his car. She would totally freak if she saw me get out of it.

  In the short time it took to get to Jazz’s house the sky had cleared and the sun even peeked out of the clouds a little.

  “It’s supposed to be a nice night,” Griffin said, as though he’d noticed the sun too.

  My voice cracked. “Yeah, I heard that.”

  We were at Jazz’s curb now. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leap out of his car or stay and try to have an actual conversation with him. The thought of conversing with The Griff was both terrifying and exciting at the same time. It had me sweating.

  Griffin seemed to notice—not that I was sweating (I hope) but that I didn’t jump out of his car when he put it into idle. He grinned a little. Then he set his eyes on mine, making me lose my breath. “A bunch of us are going to the river tonight—to hang out. You want to come?”

  “Oh … I, uh.” I could feel my face turning red, my ears too. This moment was so surreal. I had wanted it so much—him to ask me out—I was practically seeing spots.

  Still …

  “I can’t.” I sighed. “I’m not really the hanging out at the river type.”

  “No. I know,” Griffin said. “But … ” He shook his head. “Well, okay. If you don’t want to.”

  “No! I do.”

  I said it again, “I do. But I can’t, because I’m not like that—the party at the river type.” I was going to leave it at that, but then I blathered on, “But if I was, I’d so totally go with you.”

  Griffin cocked an eyebrow, looking amused. “Then come.”

  I shook my head, regretful, but completely resolute. I’d heard stories about the parties at the river. They were for drinking and hooking up. Two of the many, many (many) things I didn’t do.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  He smiled a little. “Okay. It’s just—” His smile grew. “That kiss—” He arched his eyebrows. “I liked it.”

  I groaned. “Me too.”

  I darted out of his car and up to Jazz’s house before my heart exploded with want. And before I could change my mind.

  ***

  I started to do this “thing.” Everyday. It was like a compulsion. I had to do it. I had to leave something at Griffin’s locker. Usually it was a cookie or a cupcake. Sometimes a poem. Sometimes all three. But always something. And always anonymously.

  I don’t know why I had to do it. I guess it was simply because I had a twisted, stupid “thing” for The Griff and I couldn’t actually do anything else about it. I mean, I couldn’t date him, of course. But I had all these “feelings” for him and they needed release, so—cookies.

  Only one day Griffin came up to me at my locker after I had left an enchilada in a baggie for him. I made it in cooking class, and though, yeah, it was super messy, I had taped a plastic fork to his locker too, so he could, you know, eat it.

  I’d even hid behind the corner and watched him devour it. It had been so satisfying seeing his adorable, surprised grin when he first came to his locker and found the enchilada and fork. It had given me this huge, dramatic tickle in my stomach. A total rush.

  I felt that same feeling now, when I shut my locker and there was Griffin, beside me. We hadn’t talked since that day in his car—almost a week and a half ago. Seeing him now, I caught my breath.

  “Are you leaving me gifts?” he said.

  “Um …” All flustered and shaking and turning red, I started messing with the combination on my locker, though I had just gotten everything out of it that I needed. “Gifts?”

  I continued to mess with my lock, turning it one way, then the other, like it was giving me trouble, like I hadn’t opened it on an hourly basis since the beginning of Freshmen year. Only, the weird thing was, it was giving me trouble. I couldn’t remember the combination to save my life. Actually, I couldn’t even remember my own name. All that was in my brain was Griffin’s long-lashed eyes. The way they were staring at me turned my brain to goo.

  “Yeah, gifts—food and poems and gummy bears.” He moved me out of the way and messed with my lock for a moment, spinning it with purpose, then—whoa—he opened my locker.

  My heart spazzed—even more violently than it had been, not just because he had somehow magically known my locker combination (though, whoa!), but his big, warm “Griffin” hands had gently touched my waist as he had moved me aside. His mere touch had my knees weak and my hormones rocketing out of control.

  “Wait! How’d you do that!” I exclaimed, trying to stay focused on my locker rather than his big, seductive hands. I mean, he knew my locker combination. That was pretty freaky … yet amazing.

  Griffin grinned but didn’t answer. Instead he arched his eyebrows. “Are you giving me gifts?”

  “No,” I lied—poorly—not looking at him. I stuck my head in my locker, like I needed to find something important in there—like the Holy Grail.

  I went on lying—just as poorly. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about—poems?”

  Griffin laughed softly and pulled one of my “anonymous” poems out of his pocket. It was written on a silver guitar shaped post-it note—exactly like the pad of guitar shaped post-it notes I was holding in my hands.

  Grrr!

  Griffin blatantly eyed the pad crumbling in my sweaty grip. He didn’t say anything, though—because well, he didn’t have to. There was the proof right in my clammy hands—I was a weird, strange, stalker girl with a weird, strange crush on him. AND I was a liar.

  Grrr-rrr!

  I shoved the post-its into my locker and quietly shut it. Then I turned back to Griffin. “Maybe I wrote you a poem or two,” I mumbled.

  “You’re weird.”

  Griffin smiled when he said it though, like maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. Then he leane
d into me, brushing back my hair and whispered low in my ear, “I like weird.”

  My heart ricocheted off my ribcage. I practically melted into a puddle right there at his feet.

  Griffin pulled away from me with a lazy grin and handed me a slip of paper. “Here’s my locker combo.” His smile widened. “Put the gifts inside the locker. Just ‘cuz Hailey gets jealous. She’s not my girlfriend or anything—but she’s kind of … territorial. I don’t want her to hurt you or anything.”

  “Oh,” I said, kind of confused. “Me either.”

  He laughed at that, and then he was gone, into the crowd of student traffic and I was left trembling and woozy and still wondering, How did he know my locker combination?

  ***

  How did Griffin know my locker combination? How?

  The question had me uneasy, but excited at the same time. I wondered about it all through World History, How’d he get it?

  It had me thinking about that instead of taking notes for tomorrow’s test like I was supposed to be doing. But the thing was, it seemed sort of romantic—sort of. Like maybe he had been stalking me while I’d been stalking him. You know, scoping out my locker while I’d been gifting his.

  The thought made me smile and feel all tingly inside, though I realized this was hopeless. I mean, The Griff and I—we could never “be.” Not a couple. Not anything.

  But still, it excited me to think that Griffin had cared enough to somehow get my locker combination…. I mean, since he didn’t vandalize it or steal anything from it.

  The thought had me all dreamy and excited and drawing hearts on my notes.

  But then, while I was still in history class—still in a cloud, fantasizing about big, tough Griffin sweetly stalking me—I got a text from The Griff himself.

  Seeing that the text was from him made me gasp and practically pass out. Okay, I admit it, it doesn’t take much to get me into a frenzy—especially not when it comes to anything about Griffin. Anything about him. But still, this was huge. His first time to contact me without me being right in front of his face. I mean, he was somewhere else, but he was obviously thinking about me. How sweet.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get control of my pounding heart and the waves of butterflies wooshing around in my stomach.

  Finally, I felt I could breathe without losing consciousness, so I peeked at Griffin’s message. This is what it said: It was written on your folder.

  I blinked. Huh?

  I had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. None. For a couple of minutes I sat scratching my head, trying to figure it out, but finally I gave up and texted back: ?????

  Only seconds later came Griffin’s reply: Your locker combination. It’s written on your folder.

  Wh?

  I glanced at my World History folder.

  Yep. There was my combo right on the front in big, block print. Duh! I face-palmed, muttering to myself. “Geez! I’m an idiot.”

  I had totally forgotten that yesterday Destiny had scrawled my combination there when I let her borrow my folder full of History notes. She had quickly jotted the combo down because I had wanted her to put the folder back in my locker when she was through.

  Realizing that now, I almost laughed out loud, though it was tragically sad—pathetic really. I was such a dork! Hoping Griffin was stalking me. Ha! Of course, he wasn’t. I should have totally known better. He wasn’t all pathetic and weird like me. He actually had a life.

  I scribbled out the numbers, muttering to myself and feeling a sad ach in my heart—a sort of disappointment that I knew I shouldn’t feel. I mean, I’d known Griffin and I couldn’t get together. I knew that. So, I should have been relieved he wasn’t going to be hanging around trying to tempt me. I should have been glad.

  I texted Griffin: Oh.

  After I sent it, I figured I should have probably written more. Halfway through class I added: Thanks.

  Then I spent the rest of class wondering: How did The Griff get my phone number?

  ***

  So, after that—getting called-out on the locker stalking—you probably think I stopped, but no. Not me. Maybe it was more than just that I had a monster crush on Griffin. Maybe it was deeper—emotionally. I mean, ‘cause I had to give him treats. Had to. It was a compulsion. And it was strange.

  But whatever the reason—whatever— it was just something I had to do. It made me feel better. Somehow. I mean, Aiden had Fiona. But well, I had something too. My stupid, pathetic crush on Griffin. So, in a way we were even.

  …. Though of course not really; not even close.

  Okay, it was sad.

  But it helped me get through things. Instead of thinking about Aiden getting my cooking-class treats, now I’d think about Griffin getting them. And liking them. And wanting them. It just made me feel … happy. I figured that was good, no matter how twisted it was, because otherwise I’d just feel sad and jealous and down about losing Aiden and having no boyfriend or prospect of one since now I kind of avoided Milo, which was sad because I had kind of led him on for a while, big time.

  Now Milo seemed to still have hope we would get together. He’d “accidently” run into me between classes and hang out near my locker. But no. We weren’t going to get together. Griffin’s kiss had blown that plan. Because Griffin’s kiss rocked my world. So now I just needed it to settle back down. And I decided I should wait it out alone. Not get some other poor being involved in my topsy-turvy world full of hopeless longing and yearning. It wasn’t fair to Milo. No matter how much I dreaded being alone—boyfriend-less—I hated leading him on more.

  Seeing Milo’s hopeful smile whenever he saw me broke my heart, and seeing him now, standing at my locker, made me turn around and walk the other direction. I didn’t really need my pre-calc book anyway, not enough to face Milo’s hopeful smile and wistful eyes.

  Only, as I turned around, I ran smack into Griffin—plowed right into his rock-solid chest.

  He grinned as I backed away from him, mumbling apologies and turning red.

  Griffin’s lips twitched with another grin as his gaze flicked between Milo at my locker and me making a retreat. He raised his eyebrows. “Avoiding your locker, Heaven?”

  “Um,” I hedged, not quite sure if he knew about the Milo situation or not—but wow, nothing got passed him. He obviously figured out why I’d turned around so abruptly.

  I didn’t’ t want to get caught in another lie, but I also didn’t want to admit his kiss had made it clear I had absolutely no chance of sparks with Milo—or any other boy. I mean, to him the kiss was nothing—just something to tease me about.

  While I tried to think of a clever reason that I turned around so abruptly when I saw Milo (besides needing to use the bathroom or something), Griffin pulled me out of the congested student traffic that was trying to get around us. He backed me up against the nearest wall of lockers and leaned in close. I’m not sure if it was to get out of people’s way or to get a rise out of me. Probably it was a little of both. And it worked. On both counts.

  Griffin spoke near my ear, close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my neck. “It seems like the cookies and the poems—they’re to tell me that you kind of like me, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. Probably because I hadn’t even answered his last question yet. Instead, he leaned in closer. “But I want you to show me, Heaven.”

  I stepped away from him kind of horrified and ready to run, but he grabbed my arm, not forcefully, gently, and pulled me back to him. He gave a soft laugh. “I didn’t mean that the way it might have sounded.” His lips quirked. “I just meant—don’t run away from me.” He wet his kewpie-doll lips, then brought them closer to my ear. “Maybe we should hang out.”

  He raised his eyebrows as I looked up at him, my heart racing. Was he asking me on a date? An actual date?

  I tried to calm my heart down and stay in control as his eyes studied my face, but it was hard. His warm, seductive eyes on me so intently made me want to jump up and down
or do acrobats. I couldn’t stand still. Or breathe.

  “There’s a party at Jake’s house tonight,” Griffin said. “Want to come?”

  I let out my breath, finally able to breathe, and shook my head—his question totally bringing me back to reality. We were from two totally different worlds. He was a rough and tough party guy, and I was a girl that stayed away from that kind of boy.

  As much as I yearned to have him, I knew I couldn’t.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I told you—I don’t go to those kind of parties.”

  Then I ran away from his puzzled dark eyes.

  ***

  I knew I was confusing everybody. Confusing Griffin by liking him but trying not to and confusing poor Milo by trying to like him when I didn’t. I was confusing everyone—mostly myself.

  A week after running away from Griffin I wrote him a poem that tried to explain my feelings. Only, then I seemed too exposed. So, I changed words in it and made it kind of indecipherable, but beautiful—well, I thought it was beautiful, but then … I was weird.

  In any case, I stuck it in Griffin’s locker with a tiny, yet perfect, chocolate lava cake.

  Then later, that very night, I was sitting in my den with Jazz who was spending the night since it was Friday and she had just broken up with her sort-of boyfriend, Hunter, and she was sad and wanted company. Only we were both really whiny and had eaten too much pizza and ice cream, so it was a very depressing scene—two teenage girls on a Friday night trying to watch Buffy The Vampire reruns but remembering how the last time we watched Buffy we’d been snuggling with our boyfriends—not Ben and Jerry.

  Sad, sad, sad.

  “You know who I think is cute?” Jazz groaned, getting herself another handful of popcorn.

  “Xander?” I tried keeping the sarcasm out of my voice but it was hard. She’d had a crush on the television character since junior high.

  “Duh.” She rolled her eyes and threw popcorn at me. “But don’t you think Conner Watts, from pre-calc, looks like Xander?”