During sixth period I left my class early so I could catch her before she left her class. I figured if I trapped her in the doorway, she couldn’t run. But it turned out, she was in her chorus class. And at the exact same time I stood in the doorway waiting for her, she just happened to be singing a solo. Man, she could sing. I stood listening to her like I was Alice in Frickin’ Wonderland. I was in total awe. And wonder. In a trance of mmmm.
But then she saw me watching her, and she did some startled-jumpy-jolt thing and almost fell off her platform.
I left the doorway really quick, since I didn’t want her to break her neck or anything. I leaned against the wall outside of her classroom, and ran a hand over my face. Not exactly discouraged much, just confused, and slightly amused.
I closed my eyes and kind of laughed, not about her almost falling, but this whole situation. Yeah, I was trying to give her back her notebook, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t have a clue. I had no idea what was going on in her head—but the cute little stalker chick was clearly avoiding me. So, face it, this probably wasn’t the best time to approach her—not right after the sight of me almost made her do a nose-dive.
That’s why when this blond, who I don’t actually know the name of, came rushing out of Ally’s classroom all smiling and excited, and gushed out, “Hi Griffin! Were you looking for me?”
I lied and said, “Yeah.” Though I had no idea who she was.
But I let her drag me into the nearest janitor’s closet for a little make-out. After all, got to keep the fans happy. And okay, I needed to get my mind off confusing, adorable Ally. ’Cause now I had her beautiful song stuck in my head.
But the chick wouldn’t let me near her.
I couldn’t catch a break.
CHAPTER 10
Trying to give shy Ally back her notebook—it was hopeless. It was like her cute, sweet words in her journal said one thing—but her actions said something way, way different.
No matter how much she might have liked holding my “rough hands,” the chick wouldn’t let me near her.
It seemed like she thought I was the devil or something and if I got near her, I’d steal her soul.
Seeing her run from me time and time again kept making me laugh, though. I mean What the—????
I wasn’t used to girls doing that—at all—running from me. Usually girls did the opposite. I mean, the ones that seemed to want my attention. They’d go out of their way to get it. Not Ally. But she seemed to want it. I was pretty sure she did. I mean, I’d look up and see her staring at me—but if I even took a step toward her, she’d run.
Something I should mention, I guess, she wrote more about me in that notebook than just what I mentioned earlier. She didn’t just write those three songs about me—not that I saw. She also wrote that she liked my lips. That she wondered what they would feel like on hers.
Well, I had every intention of letting her find out—only I couldn’t even give her back her book, so the kissing thing didn’t seem like it would happen.
Like I said, her written words said one thing—but her actions said something completely different. It had that saying swimming around in my head—actions speak louder than words. But I didn’t exactly like what her actions were saying. They seemed to be saying she was still afraid of me.
I liked her words way better. Her words made me feel a spark inside me that I never did before. I mean, girls could make me feel things. Good things. But it wasn’t the same as what Ally made me feel. And she did it without even getting close to me.
…. But why didn’t she want to get close to me?
Man, I just didn’t get it.
Finally, I turned to Hailey for advice, because she was a girl—sort of.
“Okay, I don’t get it,” I told Hailey. “Why does Ally keep running from me?”
Hailey laughed. I knew she would.
Still, I resorted to Hailey, since she was the only girl I actually talked to about stuff. Earlier in the week, I’d finally broke down and told her about Ally’s notebook. I didn’t tell her what I’d read in it—that it was full of songs and stuff—just that Ally had written about me in it, and that the stuff she wrote made it sound like she liked me. I didn’t go into great detail about it—at all—because Hailey can be mean. Not to me, ever, but to outsiders—people that don’t hang with us. Especially people like Ally (cookie-sweet and innocent and church-going). Especially now. Hailey is what you call territorial. She saw Ally as a threat to her territory—me. But she was going to have to get over it, because I was all into the thought of letting Ally find out what my lips feel like—and letting her eat a burrito with me … if that was still on her fantasy list. Heck, if it was, she could eat one with me every day. The girl was weird—and I liked her.
So, though I’d never sat with a girl in the cafeteria before—or held hands with one either—I was willing to do that with Ally. More than willing. I knew I had a reputation, but I didn’t start it. And despite what everyone thought, I could be nice to a girl. She just had to be like Ally … well, okay, maybe she just had to be Ally.
Anyway, yeah. I finally broke down and sought out Hailey for some insight. I leaned against the locker next to hers. “I’m confused. Why does Ally keep running from me?”
Hailey stiffened, then laughed, shutting her locker with a loud slam. “You’re a bad boy, Griffin. Didn’t you know that? Girls dream about guys like you. But girls like Ally Grange—Goody-good Girls—won’t ever go for you. Ever. You fill their fantasies—but in real life you make them quiver and run away.”
Okay, that sounded like Ally.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, not exactly encouraged. “So … what can I do?”
Hailey laughed again, like this whole conversation was hilarious—me interested in a church girl … or any girl. I waited her out, since I could see the irony. She was always coming to me for advice about guys (I’d never come to her for advice—not once). But my advice for her was always the same, ‘If he doesn’t call you, move on.’
Well, Ally wasn’t calling. Or even letting me near her. So, yeah, I got that Hailey was saying in her not-so-subtle and very-pleased way that I should move on. I knew she would be thrilled when I finally did … only, I didn’t want to.
I leaned the back of my head against the locker. Waiting.
She rolled her eyes, obviously not wanting to give me helpful advice—anyway, not something helpful to get me in with Ally Grange—the girl Hailey had growled and grumbled about ever since “the cookie,” and even really before that. Nice people bug her; the same as mean ones bug me. (Though Hailey doesn’t … usually. But that’s just because I’ve known her so long. She’s kind of like a grouchy kid brother to me. [But don’t tell her I said that.])
I waited for Hailey’s insightful words, bracing myself, knowing she can be kind of brutal. Still, her brutality is pretty much always laced with honesty, always. So, I didn’t really hold it against her. I respected her for it, sort of, pretty much. She didn’t hold back her punches, that was for sure. I went to different people if I wanted coddling—like any other person in the world. But right now I needed an honest answer: What could I do to get Ally?
“Nothing!” Hailey said. “Griffin, girls know what you do. You break hearts—and don’t even try to deny it.”
She looked me challengingly in the eye, her gleaming gaze dark and glistening. Whoa. Scary. I looked away, kind of unsettled. More from her words though than her evil-eye.
But here’s the thing: I didn’t go around trying to break girls’ hearts. Ever. That was never my intent. Ever. But girls all seemed to want “love.” I was too young for that—or immature—or something. I just didn’t feel it … and I never said I did. In fact, I would always tell girls I was just having fun—and they’d say they were too, but then I’d always hear later girls were crying about me. So apparently their fun and my fun were not the same thing. (Theirs didn’t actually seem that fun—I mean, they cried. And I just moved on to another girl. It
was messed up. I know. But not my fault.)
Hailey went on, sounding excruciatingly blissful to get to explain this to me, “Girls know that, Griffin—they aren’t dumb. They know you’ll break their hearts. But some girls are willing to risk the pain—or they are exceedingly delusional and over-confident and somehow think they can “change” you. That they’re the ones that can. That they’re “special” … at least in your eyes. It’s your fault they think that though, Griffin. You make them think that.”
I looked away from her again. I can’t help it if I like girls—they are special to me. I like them—all of them. As long as they’re nice. I may not “change” for them … but I never try to hurt them.
I’m pretty sure Hailey could see she was making me feel like a dirt-bag. It didn’t make her ease up though. That’s not her style. She’ll go for the kill. (Unless she feels sorry for you, which she seldom does, and sure didn’t feel it for me right then.) But as she went on, she did sound like she was back-peddling a little, but it still wasn’t useful to me, and definitely didn’t make me feel any better.
Still, she conceded, “Okay, I think they all get you aren’t going to hold their hand, or take them to a school dance. They all get that they’re not that special to you. But still, most of them are willing to put up with squashing their girly dreams for a chance to have you hold them and kiss them … but not girls like Ally Grange. Girls like her play it safe. I mean, they might fantasize about you—the kissing and holding—but they will never go for you. Actually, Griffin, for the most part—in reality—you only attract a certain type of girl—stupid ones.”
Um, ouch.
Hailey quickly went on, apparently enjoying stomping my heart—since she got to do it so seldom. I mean, this was the first time I’d ever asked her for girl advice, so really it was her first opportunity to rant about me being a guy. She huffed, “But to answer your question about why Ally runs from you—girls like her keep their hearts safe—they won’t risk it getting broken. Instead, they go for guys like Baker—“safe guys” that will behave like they want, and take them to the dances they want, and hold their hands. They save guys like you only for their dreams—but will always—always—run from you.” Hailey smirked with a joyful gleam in her dark dancing eyes. “Give it up, Griffin. You’ll never get her.”
Wow. She was practically dancing a jig to get to tell me this junk. Still, it seemed to be true. Everything she said. Whenever I tried to get near Ally, she’d run. Literally run.
Finally, I just mailed Ally’s notebook to her. I didn’t want to break her heart … and apparently she didn’t want me to either. The thing was though, I didn’t really think I would. But she wasn’t going to give me a chance to find out.
Maybe that was smart.
Apparently, I’m a wad.
CHAPTER 11
It wasn’t long after I mailed Ally her notebook to her that I got into some trouble. Serious trouble. I’m not going to tell you about it though, not right now anyway. Maybe never. My trauma counselors tell me not to go around talking about it. I mean, they want me to talk about it with them—constantly. But it’s not stuff I should divulge to people where it can circulate through the school and community. Just not a good idea. I don’t think I would “share” anyway, but who knows, sometimes my mouth just spews things out. Then later I’m like, why’d I say that?
I’m a pretty random guy.
Anyway, by junior year I’d pretty much forgotten about Ally. Pretty much. Now she was dating this poser guy, Aiden Hanks. He was even worse than Baker. Even more of a girl. The guy bugged me. In a big way. Unfortunately, he was on the hockey team with me that year, so I actually had to listen to his mouth. Not that I actually listened to the punk—ever. Except one morning, I came out of the locker room and Poser was talking smack—about me.
The dude was a brave, stupid soul. I mean, he had to already know I hated his guts and was itching for an excuse to splatter those guts all over the sidewalk. Now he had handed the excuse to me on a silver platter. Everyone was glad. I mean, the kid had a mouth. He bugged everyone on the team. Everyone. I’m actually a fairly tolerant guy—considering I kept having to stop practically every member of the team from taking a slug at the guy at one time or another. (He was new to the team, so I tried—tried—to cut him some slack, reasoning maybe he was such an obnoxious dill-weed because he was trying to “fit in” or whatever mumbo-jumbo my counselors tried getting me to swallow.)
I backed Poser against the wall, ready to knock his pretty face in. Glad I suddenly had the opportunity.
But then coach rounded the corner. “You’re not supposed to fight your own team, Griffin,” Coach said, making me let go of Poser. He waited until I actually backed away from the punk—which was hard for me to do.
I mean it, it was hard to let it go—the need to slug Poser. I’d had a violent fight with my dad the night before. Actually had to kick the drunk out of our house again because he was fighting with my mom—again—physically, abusively. I wanted to tear apart Poser. Get rid of the ache inside me.
Later, I growled to him as I skated past his stick-like body, “You’re going down after school.”
The terrified look on his face was enough to ease the knots in my gut. A little. But I still had every intention of beating the whiney twerp to a pulp. Just the thought of it alone put me in a better mood.
***
That day, after lunch hour, I closed my locker, then turned to find shy little Ally Grange standing there. Right there, within inches of me. It was like she was waiting for me. Me.
I blinked, kind of not believing my eyes. Or the moment. I mean, she was here. Right next to me. Of her own freewill. Looking scared, yeah, but determined. Of what, I had no idea. A dare? That was all I could think of—but it didn’t fit. The girl wasn’t exactly the daring type. Nor was she the groupie type that I usually found around my locker. I mean, though I was completely mystified, I had the scrambling, semi-conscious awareness she wasn’t here to tell me I played a wild game last night or invite me to stick my tongue down her throat.
Nothing that went through my mind fit.
I stared at her a moment—she stared back. Not moving.
The girl hadn’t said a word to me since she’d given me that cookie—years ago.
I tilted my head, quirking an eyebrow. “You looking for me?”
She sucked in her breath and gave a slight nod. No words.
Cutest thing ever.
My lips twitched slightly.
I couldn’t help being entrained by her obvious discomfort. Did she think I was going to slug her?—a cute little girl?
My grin grew despite my puzzlement—or because of it. Not sure. The girl just made me grin. All the time. Just seeing her—she always managed to do that, pull my lips into a smile. Every time I saw her.
As my lips did their thing, my eyebrows lifted. “What’s up?”
She bit her bottom lip. It gave me a little thrill. Those cherry red lips, man. It got me thinking—in vivid detail—what she wrote about me in that notebook of hers. That she wondered what it would be like to feel my lips on hers. I was still willing to let her find out. More than willing. Her lips were seducing me at the moment. The way she was sucking on them like that. It made me stare at them and wonder. Tempting me. They were so red, like cherries. I wanted to press my mouth against them—see what they tasted like. Like that cinnamon cookie she gave me? … or juicy red cherries? Suddenly, I felt pretty certain it would be a combination of the two. And I was more than curious what that would taste like. Curious enough that I felt I might just grab her and find out. Though I knew I wouldn’t, since just standing here with me seemed to be traumatizing to her shy girly heart. I mean, I got that impression from the way she had her little hands clasped over her heart like that—as though for dear life, like to cage it in, because she was afraid it was going to leap out of her chest and make a run for it. Like just being near me made it do violent things.
All that stuff though
—her quivering and clasping and sighing—it made me tempted to put my hand over her heart too. I wanted to feel it. Feel it beating for me.
So those two things were going through my head—kissing Ally and feeling her heart. It made me draw closer to her without even noticing I was doing it.
But then, whoa. She squeaked and lurched away from me. That’s how I woke up and noticed I’d gotten closer. It was kind of shocking.
Man.
I pulled away a bit. Then breathed out a laugh. I mean, she squeaked (!) … just because I got close to her. With a grin I sighed and shook my head. There would be no kissing this girl in my future. None.
It was frustrating, yet at the same time it was hilarious. She wanted me—I was pretty sure. Yet she would die if I came near her. A perplexing situation. One I knew I’d be scratching my head over (though yeah, also grinning about) for days.
Tugging at the hem of her sweater, she took a deep breath, like she was trying to summon up enough courage to actually talk to me—Griff the Grief-Master. The scariest guy in the whole school, apparently. Not exactly a reputation I was fond of. Or wanted. Especially not now. Still, it was kind of hilarious that she was so afraid of me—considering she had my heart all pounding for her. (And the fact I’d sniffed her cookie an entire day.)
I was more than a little curious what she wanted though. What gave her—timid Ally—the courage to actually dare to come over here and talk to me? And even stay after I’d gotten super close to her and made her squeak? Usually she’d be long gone by now.
So, though she seemed all scared—like she might faint any second—still she was being brave. Sort of. I mean, here she was, glued to that spot, not running away.
Though man, she was shaking. Really bad. (I’m really that terrifying? Wow.)
Just to calm her down, I went to touch her shivering arm. Just touch it. But she jumped back with a yelp.
Note to self: Don’t touch Ally.
Her Kiss (Griffin) Page 3
