He played with a tendril of my hair, and his eyes stared into mine. “I have a crush on you, Heaven.”
Oh, my heart couldn’t take it. It couldn’t. Big, strong Griffin being so sweet and gentle and looking at me that way—all warm and tender and I want you. It had my body on fire and all tingly and woozy and my heart beating so fast I was sure it was going to explode. “I have one on you too.”
“I know.” He tugged playfully on a lock of my hair. “You told me.”
I gave a soft laugh, my brain gone—totally not in my head—all I could think about was his eyes and his soft, pink lips and how it seemed he was going to kiss me again. “Oh yeah.”
“I’m writing a song about it,” he said, his face drawing near mine. “A song about you.”
I jerked my head up, coming out of my stupor. Wh????
“You write songs?”
Griffin gave me a look, like: Why do you sound so incredulous … and turned on?
But after a moment all he said was, “Yeah. I write all the songs for our band. That song that we did at the school talent show? I wrote that.”
Purrrrr!
Okay, now I wanted to pounce on him.
Gah!
My stomach knotted a little. Actually, it knotted a lot. Life was cruel. So unfair. Why oh why did he have to be a bad boy? Mr. Party Animal? Why did such a hot, talented wise-guy have to come around tempting me so bad? Now I was going to dream about him forever—and want and lust and yearn for him.
Ugh!
It wasn’t fair!
Griffin had no idea what was going through my head—that I was contemplating making a run for the exit before I did something stupid, like give up my resolve. Give into his … hotness. I mean, he wrote songs! And he said he liked me. Well, he said he did. But okay, that’s what players do, right? They mess with girls’ hearts—tease them and tempt them and get them all panting just for fun.
Geez, I hated players.
I tried reminding myself of that. Griffin’s a player, Griffin’s a player. I chanted it over and over again in my head, trying to be strong and keep my resolve—I couldn’t date a bad boy. I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t.
Griffin’s gaze flicked to the streamers above us. “So, this decorating we did.” His eyes were back on mine. “It’s for a dance, right?”
I grimaced, then nodded, wondering if he knew Aiden and I didn’t get back together though I told him we were. I wondered if he knew Aiden was going to the dance with Fiona. Then it struck me—he probably knew. After all, he and Aiden were on the same hockey team, and Fiona was a hockey cheerleader—word gets around in those kinds of circles. Maybe that’s why he was being so nice—helping me decorate and everything. He felt sorry for me. The thought was both touching and humiliating at the same time. It filled me with a strange warmth, but had my ears burning and made me want to run away and hide and just think about all this stuff—Griffin being so nice. That’s all I wanted to do now—fantasize about it. I didn’t want to have to face the actual meaning behind his kind, sweet gesture—the crushing facts of why. It was too … pathetic.
Even rough, tough The Griff felt sorry for me—decorating for a dance I wasn’t going to. That’s probably why he had been all mushy, telling me he had a crush on me. He just felt sorry for me.
Suddenly, I wanted to crawl under a rock. But Griffin tilted his head, looking so deep into my eyes he practically had to hold me up to keep me from swooning. “Okay, Heaven,” he said, “you won’t go with me to a party. Will you go with me to the dance?”
My heart stopped and heat rushed in.
I blinked. I was going to fall for real. “You’ll … come to the dance?”
He raised his eyebrows. “If you’ll come with me.”
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. This moment didn’t seem real—couldn’t be real. Griffin was offering to take me to the dance? The Griff?
The thought had me giddy and this awe-inspiring, mind-blowing realization washed through me—no, I couldn’t date a bad-boy, but … Griffin wasn’t really a “bad” boy. I mean, he didn’t pound Aiden’s face in that day after school—the day we kissed— and he didn’t post my journal entries all over the internet—he’d sent them back to me. And since I wouldn’t go to a party with him, he was willing to go to a dance with me—a school dance. That was so not a bad-boy thing.
I was ready to melt into a puddle.
Griffin grinned at my huge, dorky smile. “So will you go with me?—To the dance?”
I nodded, too amazed to speak.
***
I would love to tell you that The Griff and I went to the dance and it was wonderful and all my dreams came true. But I can’t. Because that didn’t happen. We didn’t end up even going to the dance. I got all dressed up and waited for him. And waited for him, and waited for him. But he never showed.
Two hours after he was supposed to come to my house and sweep me off my feet, the phone started ringing. It kept ringing and ringing, but I didn’t answer it. I was curled up in a ball on my bedroom floor, still in my beautiful dress that I had bought especially for the dance.
I didn’t answer the phone because I was bawling and I didn’t want whoever was on the line to hear my sobbing. I knew it was either Jazz or Destiny calling to see where I was—or it was Griffin calling with a lame excuse why he decided not to show. Or maybe it would be him laughing, saying: “You really fell for that? You thought I’d go to a school dance?”
He was mean. Evil! I hated him.
Three hours later, I finally dragged myself off the floor to check all the phone messages. I read through the list of numbers, seeing a lot of the calls were from Jazz and Destiny. But there was another number that kept calling too. Finally, I took a deep breath and listened to the messages.
The unfamiliar number wasn’t from Griffin. It was from his Mom. She called to say Griffin was in the hospital, that he had been rushed there and that he’d had emergency surgery.
“It was his appendix,” she said with a quiver in her voice.
I let out my breath as she went on. “Griffin kept insisting I call you.” She gave a meaningful pause. “He wanted me to tell you he’s sorry.”
She had called a few times after that, but didn’t leave a message; however, on her last call she did. She said Griffin was in room 203 at the hospital.
Then she added candidly, “My son wants to see you, Ally. I don’t know who you are, but you seem important to him. He was going to a school dance with you?” She said it like she could hardly believe it. “Visiting hours are over for the night, but please come see him first thing in the morning.”
***
Griffin didn’t stand me up! I went to bed on a cloud of happiness.
He didn’t stand me up! He didn’t stand me up! Earlier I had done a little dance around my room about it, chanting the mantra out loud. “He didn’t stand me up!”
But later, in my bed, I couldn’t sleep. I was so out of control today. So happy and excited this afternoon when Griffin asked me to the dance, but then, I practically died of heartbreak when he didn’t show up.
I tossed and turned in bed, deciding I couldn’t take this—trying to date Griffin. I liked him too much. My feelings for him were too intense.
My feelings for Aiden were never like this—never so extreme. They were nice and solid and safe. They were comfortable.
“Yeah, like an old pair of tennis shoes,” Jazz said when I called her the next morning, explaining why I didn’t show up at the dance—and then, why I didn’t go to the hospital this morning to see Griffin.
She sighed. “So The Griff’s really in the hospital?”
“I guess so.”
Jazz sounded incredulous. “You seriously haven’t gone to see him?”
“No,” I said in exasperation. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t think I should go see him. I think I should stay away from him—try to forget about him. I like him too much.”
; I could hear Jazz rolling her eyes. “You are so full of excuses, Ally! First he doesn’t like you enough and he’s a bad-boy and he’s not your type, blah-da, blah-da blah. Now he’s too perfect and wonderful and he’s too right for you.”
She made it sound like it was crazy, but it wasn’t. Griffin was too right for me. He played the guitar and I wanted to learn to play the guitar, and he wrote songs and I loved to write songs, and he could kiss super good and suddenly I was all into kissing. It was too perfect, too exciting, too much. I couldn’t handle it. I needed vanilla.
“No, I’m serious,” I insisted. “It’s probably just as well we didn’t go out last night. I was so excited about the dance, too excited—about going with Griffin, and then when he didn’t show up I almost died of disappointment. I mean it, Jazz—I curled up in a ball on my floor—for hours!”
“So you were excited.” Jazz sounded matter-of-fact. “It’s good to have a little excitement in your life, Ally.”
“A little excitement—maybe. But I was over excited.” I scooped my cat, Daisy, up in my arms. “I’m so glad we didn’t go out last night—I would have been a spaz. Besides,” I said offhandedly, “if Griffin and I had started becoming a couple or whatever—it would’ve killed Aiden.”
Jazz snorted. “I think he’ll survive,” she said. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I saw Aiden last night—at the dance. Brace yourself—he was with a girl—Fiona. Remember, his girlfriend?”
Daisy jumped out of my arms and I flung myself across my bed, slightly grinning from Jazz’s sarcasm. I knew she was right—Aiden wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. I didn’t have to worry about his feelings or if he approved of me dating Griffin. Heck, I didn’t approve of him dating Fiona, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Jazz sighed. “Look, Aiden’s getting on with his life. Why don’t you get on with yours?”
***
By the time I got to Griffin’s hospital room he looked so happy to see me, I felt like a jerk for not coming sooner. A really stupid jerk.
His warm smile got my heart all fluttery.
Just for something to do, so that I didn’t just gawk at him like I wanted to, I announced all chipper and excited, “I brought you chicken soup.” I held up the jar like ta-da. “Jazz and I made it for you.” I leaned against the doorframe, feeling awkward. I couldn’t bring myself to fully enter the room. I’m not sure why. “My mom—she always makes me soup when I’m sick. It helps me feel better.”
Griffin raised his eyebrows. “It’s helping me feel better.”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You haven’t even tried it yet.”
“No, but you made me soup,” he said. “And you came to see me. Seeing you, Heaven—that makes me feel better.”
Aww. That got my heart all fluttery again.
“I brought you a cactus, too.” I held up the tiny plant.
Griffin’s lips quirked. “I see that.”
“I’m going to put it here in the window,” I said, finally coming completely into the room. “It has this tiny, little bud that is going to blossom in the morning. Tomorrow when you wake up, it’ll be here—a flower.”
He stared at me, his eyes glistening. “Thanks, Heaven.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, wondering what I did to deserve the way he was looking at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I was going to but—”
“Hey,” he interrupted my lame attempt at an apology. “Come here.” He held out his hand. “Sit with me.”
Slowly, tentatively, I did as he requested, since it was exactly what I wanted.
Finally I was doing it, trying a new flavor. It was kind of scary, but seeing Griffin smile at me all warm and sweet, and remembering his hot, passionate kiss; suddenly, I knew—the risk was worth all the trauma.
NOVELS By Melanie Marks:
The Dating Deal
When Kyle Came Back
A Demon’s Kiss
Author Note:
I’d like to give a special thank you to my readers who buy everything I write—thank you so much! I appreciate the support so much! I love you guys! I’d also like to give a shout-out to Ally who was my very first teen fan on GoodReads and to “Ladybug” who did a video review of Fall For Me. I’d never seen one of those before. Thanks!!!! J
Author Bio:
Melanie Marks was born and raised in California. She is married to a naval nuclear submarine officer and blessed with three amazingly terrific kids.
Melanie has had over fifty short stories published in magazines such as Highlights, Woman’s World, and Teen Magazine as well as in various anthologies, many being Chicken Soup for the Soul books. She’s had four children’s books published and three teen novels, THE DATING DEAL, A DEMON’S KISS, and WHEN KYLE CAME BACK. More teen novels are forthcoming in the fall of 2011, such as THE STRANGER INSIDE and more.
Melanie enjoys reading in the bathtub, writing in bed, and living in a house longer than two years. Visit her website at http://www.byMelanieMarks.com or email her: [email protected].
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