Still … I was excited. Too excited. As I waited, curious and flushing, I steeled myself to be let down. Because this was Griffin. The Grief-Master. The school Bad Boy. He’d never even had a girlfriend, ever—because he just liked to “hang out.” Not date or be romantic … or do anything sweet. He was the total opposite of Aiden. I needed to remember that—I wanted a sweet, sensitive guy I could write songs with. I wanted Aiden, not Griffin.
As I tried to remember all this, I watched Griffin rummage through his backpack, watched his dark hair fall over his gorgeous brown eyes as he explained, “I was going to give this to you at a better time. I mean, that’s what I’d thought when I got it—that I’d give it to you for some sort of ‘occasion.’ But I guess not.”
Finally, Griffin pulled out what he’d been looking for from his backpack. I blinked, tilting my head. It was a book.
A gorgeous, fancy, elegant book.
He held it out to me. Only, I didn’t take it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. Griffin bought me … that?
When I just stood there staring at it, my heart ready to explode, Griffin grinned. “Here,” he said. “It’s for you.”
My brain was in a confused daze, but I guess I took the book. I must have. It was in my hands. I sucked in my breath. “Wow,” I murmured.
My heart leapt up to my throat as I leafed through the elegant pages. Each page was empty—blank.
“It’s a journal,” Griffin said. “I saw it and it made me think of you.”
I swallowed, tears welling in my eyes. This beautiful journal made him think of … me?
It was so sweet and touching. I was seriously going to start bawling any second. He did know me. Griffin knew me!
But … how?
“Back—freshman year,” Griffin said as though I’d asked the question aloud, “you had geometry with Mr. Mohammed the hour before me. You sat in the same seat as me.” He paused a moment and I could feel his eyes on mine, but I couldn’t look up at him. Instead, I stared at the beautiful journal, trying to hold back my tears.
Finally, Griffin went on. “One day you left a ratty notebook on the desk. It was full of … stuff. Music and poems and … thoughts.”
“It was a journal,” he said.
My heart stopped. Heat rushed through my body. “It was you,” I whispered in awe. “You mailed my notebook back to me.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated. “I didn’t know what else to do with it. It didn’t seem like I should leave it there—I mean, it had personal stuff in it.”
Yeah, no kidding, I thought, cringing. But I didn’t say it aloud. I couldn’t say anything because I was going to cry.
Griffin gave a soft laugh, the sound musical to my ears. “I couldn’t give it to you,” he said. “I tried a couple of times, but every time you saw me coming towards you, you’d run the other way.”
My cheeks burned. Mostly because I knew it was true. Griffin was a big guy. He used to scare me—even back in junior high when I had my other crush on him—my junior high crush. Even then, I was afraid of him. Even before he became The Grief-Master, Terror of the Hockey Rink. Because in junior high he’d been known as a “trouble-maker” and trouble-makers scared me. They still did.
“Anyway,” Griffin shrugged like no big deal, “finally I just mailed it to you.”
I darted my eyes to him, then back to the book. “Did you read it?”
Griffin hesitated. “Yeah. A little bit—when I first found it—when I was trying to figure out what it was.” Griffin gently cupped my chin in his hands, making me look up at him into his seductive brown eyes. For once they weren’t at all teasing. They were totally serious. “I liked what I read.”
I swallowed and pulled away from him. Not out of anger, but just because I needed to wipe my eyes and try to catch my breath. I leaned against the wall behind me, my knees weak from his words and the way he said them—all honest and sincere. They had me ready to melt into a puddle. My heart was a puddle—all soft and mushy and throbbing.
Oh, this is bad, I thought with alarm. This is very, very bad.
With all my might, I tried to focus on my resolve, remember it. Griffin was a bad boy, all wrong for me. I tried, tried, tried reminding myself that I wanted Aiden back—nice, sweet Aiden that I could write songs with and go to dances with—not Griffin who liked to “hang out” and mess with girls’ hearts, get them all into a frenzy just for fun.
Ally, be strong, I told myself. Be strong, be strong, be strong.
Only, Griffin went on talking, his eyes intently on me. “But I noticed you before that,” he said. “In junior high you’d be in the school’s library after school a lot and I’d be in there—every day.”
He gave a soft laugh. “That’s where detention used to be. Anyway, I’d see you in there looking all serious, scribbling away in that notebook and I’d wonder, ‘What could she be writing?’ Sometimes you looked so intense, and other times all happy. But you were always so into it. It was like you were in your own little world—like you didn’t know anyone else was around.” His lips quirked. “It was cute.”
I gazed up at him in complete astonishment—not about the cute remark, though yeah, that had my heart fluttering. But what had me so totally, heart-pumping, speechlessly amazed was: The Griff really knew me. He did. He totally got me.
The thought had me in a giddy daze.
I held on to the wall behind me for support and blinked and blinked, trying to shake away the loopy, dreamy haze clouding up my mind and focus on something other than: Wow!
Mostly, I wanted to thank Griffin for the beautiful, thoughtful gift. It was so sweet. I wanted to thank him so incredibly bad. But staring at him, gazing into his seductive long lashed eyes, my brain turned to Jell-O.
So instead, we just stood staring at each other in silence, our hearts racing—or anyway, mine was. It was flying away.
But then, Aiden came bounding out of the gym door, bouncing me back into the real world—the world that consisted of more than gorgeous brown eyes and hot kewpie-doll lips.
Aiden’s gaze flicked to Griffin, looking quizzical and unhappy, then darted back to me. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said. “Can we go talk alone? At my locker?”
I nodded unable to say anything, and followed Aiden toward the other side of campus. Well, my body followed him. I’m not exactly sure what my heart did. I think it might have stayed with Griffin.
But I didn’t turn around even though I could feel Griffin’s eyes on me as I walked away. I didn’t dare turn and look because no, even after all that—that yummy, delicious sweetness—I knew I could never have anything with Griffin, not anything real. I couldn’t. I was a good girl and not looking to be bad. That just wasn’t me. So no, I couldn’t actually “date” The Griff. But I could dream about him—I’d definitely dream about him.
I followed Aiden to his locker and watched him put his books inside and then he slammed it shut.
“I heard Griffin took a picture of you during study hall,” Aiden said, turning back to face me. He grimaced. “I hate that guy.”
Then he went on, “I hate everything about him, Ally. And I hate how you were looking at him just now.”
“What?” I smirked. “Like, the way you look at Fiona?”
Aiden ducked his head. “Let’s not fight,” he said in a small voice. “I was so glad you finally texted back. I miss you so much, Ally—I ache.”
I swallowed, knowing exactly how he felt. “Me too.”
We talked a long time. It was good conversing with him again, soothing to my heart. But even as I tried to concentrate on what he was saying—I couldn’t help it—Griffin’s eyes and lips and words kept swirling around in my brain, messing with my thoughts even as I tried to focus on Aiden and us getting back together. Griffin’s words—all of them, they danced around in my brain: “Don’t delete the picture, Heaven.” … “I like you, Heaven.” … “Don’t run away from me.” … “There’s other ways to show me you like me.”…
His words—the
way he said them—they just went on and on in my brain, haunting me, making me dizzy and unable to concentrate on Aiden or anything he was saying.
“Kiss me, Aiden,” I finally whispered, interrupting whatever he was saying.
He smiled, tilting his head. “What?”
“Kiss me.”
His smile grew, showing his dimples—something that used to make me all tingly inside. “Okay.”
He put his arms around my waist just as he had done a hundred times, only now it felt different since he hadn’t done it in months. It felt … special. Because I wasn’t taking it for granted. Now I had seen him do it to Fiona. And it had hurt me to see that—hurt so bad. It had filled me with wounded longing and made me wish I had him back and could feel his arms around me again. So, it was nice finally being in his arms after so much suffering. Nice and comfortable and right.
“Kiss me,” I whispered again.
“I’m going to,” he whispered back with a husky laugh, his lips already pressed against mine. And then he was kissing me for real, warm and pleasant and nice.
But that was all it was, nice.
I clamped my lips together, pulling away from him, frustrated.
“What’s wrong?” Aiden asked, looking confused, then concerned. “You’re all pale. Are you okay?”
Yes, I was okay. That was the trouble. Aiden’s kisses made me feel—okay. Not like my knees were going to give out or like my heart was going to explode. They just made me feel okay—comfortable and settled. Which I had always thought was a good thing—before. I’d thought that’s what I wanted. I mean, ever since Aiden and I broke up, that had become my goal in life, what I was striving for—to feel okay.
And I could live with it, of course. Feeling okay about a kiss. Only, now that I had it, I didn’t exactly feel comfortable settling for it.
I mean, it wasn’t as bad as me trying to like Milo … but it was close. Suddenly, it seemed incredibly close, pathetically close. Because I’d had that stupid, beautiful, fantastic encounter with Griffin only moments earlier.
Ugh!
No. No way. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the school year pining over a guy that was all wrong for me.
“Kiss me again.” I shocked Aiden, and pulled him to me by his collar, desperate for something amazing this time.
Aiden cocked his head looking bewildered, but he willingly brought his lips to mine and kissed me again. And again, it was nice. Sweet and comfortable.
But there just weren’t any tingles. Or anything special. No sparks.
Feeling a lump in my stomach, suddenly I remembered something I hadn’t thought about since we broke up—the reasons we broke up. I hadn’t been feeling happy or settled with Aiden anymore. Our relationship had started to make me feel agitated and distressed all the time. It made me feel sad and unspecial—Aiden had made me feel that way. He had acted like Fiona was “it” and I … well, wasn’t. That made me lose any sparks I had toward him—right there. All this time I’d blamed it on Griffin’s kiss, but that was stupid. I should have blamed it on Aiden’s actions.
I took a deep, ragged breath. “I’ve missed you, Aiden.” I stepped away from him. “You’re one of my best friends.”
His smile faltered. “Friends?—you’re saying you just want to be friends?”
I swallowed, then nodded unable to speak.
“I can’t believe you, Ally,” he said incredulously. Then he sounded angry—threatening. “I’m going to ask Fiona to the dance then—and be an official couple—just like she wants.”
I nodded. “I know, Aiden. I know.” A tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away. Instead, I choked out, “It’ll hurt to see that.”
More tears started falling, more and more. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater, but they were pouring. I didn’t want to lose Aiden. I loved Aiden … but these days just as a friend—I realized that now, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
It would kill me to see him with Fiona. It just would. But we weren’t right together anymore. We were over. We deserved sparks.
Aiden stood there, silently watching me cry, looking torn—mad, but compassionate.
“Geez, Ally,” he murmured.
He didn’t sound mad anymore; he sounded resigned. He watched me cry a moment longer—probably thinking he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore and shouldn’t console me, but then suddenly, he was beside me and put his arms around me, holding me tight in his familiar embrace, whispering in my ear, “I’m going to miss you, Ally.”
***
Friday morning classes dragged. I moped around school hating everyone—because everyone was happy and excited about the stupid dance. Blah. Jazz was basically intolerable; she was so excited to be going with Conner.
At lunch Destiny was all smiles. She sat at our table, beaming. “Guess what,” she said, looking at me—not Jazz—but I didn’t feel up to guessing games.
“You totally dodged a bullet,” she said with a smile.
I jutted my chin from side to side, a habit I’d picked up from watching Griffin—stalking him. He did it all the time when he was thinking something over. It was adorable.
“What bullet?” I finally asked, giving up on trying to figure what she was talking about.
“Milo asked me to the dance!” she gushed, then she went on to explain how it came about. He asked her when she was trying to steer him clear of me. “I told him you’re really confused right now and it’s hard breaking up with someone when you’ve been together for over two years. It’s hard to let go.”
She went on with a huge smile on her face, telling me how they got to talking about the dance—and she had mentioned that she wasn’t going.
“And then, he just asked me!” she gushed. “I totally wasn’t expecting it. But I think he’s gorgeous! And sings so good—better than Griffin, even.”
That was so not true, but totally beside the point. I sat there frozen, listing to her gush, trying to be happy for her, but really, I would have gone to the dance with Milo—if he would have asked me. Actually, I would have gone to the dance with anyone.
Still, I knew I should be happy for Destiny—and I was. I was happy for her, even thrilled, but I was sad for me. Everybody was going to the dance—Destiny with Milo, Jazz with Conner, Aiden with Fiona. I was the only one not going to the dance. And I was the only one that even liked school dances. After all, I was on the dance committee and everything.
This bit.
***
After school, I trudged to the gym to decorate it for a stupid dance I wasn’t even going to. At first we had a lot of people helping us, but after the first hour only Bianca and I were left. And as I said, I kind of hated Bianca. She was bossy and snobby, but president of the dance committee. So, yeah, my day was just tops.
Bianca left to go hunt up more streamers, and then it was just me—alone in the stupid gym, getting it all pretty for the stupid dance. I was so sad and depressed I wanted to cry. I could feel tears forming as I was up on the ladder trying to get the tape I’d put on the streamer to actually stick to the wall. But it needed to be up higher than I could actually reach.
“Do you need help?”
I jerked around at the unexpected male voice. Then I almost fell off the ladder, because it was Griffin. He was standing in the gym doorway watching me.
“Um, yeah,” I managed to choke out. “I could really use some help. Definitely.”
With my heart racing I watched Griffin grab the ladder Bianca had been using. He brought it over next to mine and climbed up beside me. Then he put up all the streamers—for me—and for a dance he wouldn’t be caught dead at. I was touched and speechless, just as I always was these days when Griffin was around.
He just kept doing these unexpectedly nice, wonderful, thoughtful things. They wreaked havoc with my heart—and my resolve to stay away from him. Had me ready to jump into his arms and beg him to call me “Heaven” again and to give me three more minutes in it.
Only ju
st then Bianca breezed back into the gym carrying an armload of streamers and a big sign that said, “Rock My World.”
Looking amazed she gazed around the gym, her expression totally pleased. “Wow, you got a lot done while I was gone.”
“Griffin helped,” I said, though that was totally an understatement. He basically did everything. I just supervised and told him what to do. It had been … nice.
Bianca plunked her armload of streamers down on the refreshment table, eyeing Griffin with a new interest.
“It all looks really great,” she purred. “Could you put up this sign for me?”
Griffin’s jaw flinched slightly. “No, sorry. I’ve got to go.”
“Oh, okay.” She kind of glared at him, then turned to me with a shrug. “So, finish with the streamers and then hang this sign right over that door and I think we’re set.”
Um, ugh.
Bianca immediately left, saying she needed to check on something.
Once she was gone, Griffin turned back to me. “Want me to put up that sign?”
My heart fluttered. Didn’t he just say …? “I thought you had to go.”
He smirked. “I just didn’t want to help her. I don’t like her.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that—smiling big. “But you’ll help me?”
He had his back to me, climbing the ladder with the sign in his hand. “Sure.”
“Because … you like me?”
He turned to me and smirked. “Well, I don’t hate you.” Then he grinned. “Of course I like you, Heaven. That’s why I keep asking you to the river and parties, but you keep shooting me down.”
“You ask me to the river because you like me?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism out of my voice. I mean, the river—where people get drunk and hook up. That’s where he took girls he liked?
Griffin glanced back over at me and then back to the sign, centering it. He didn’t answer.
“Ask me somewhere else,” I whispered, only not out loud.
When Griffin was done with the sign he came over towards me and kept coming towards me until he playfully had me backed against the wall.
His Kiss Page 10
