by Nia Arthurs
“Screw everyone else, right?” I glare at him.
“What does that mean?”
“I need to know something.” I whirl on my heels, unable to stay steady through the haze of hurt and pain. “Did I win that Winthrop competition fairly?”
Silence.
“Did I!”
His eyes shift.
My heart sinks down to my toes.
I know the answer even before he says a word.
“I recognized your name in the entry list.” His voice is quiet and firm. “I thought it was you.”
“I can’t believe this.” My head is heavy beneath the weight of my guilt. “I can’t believe you did that. You’re despicable.”
He exhales loudly. “Let me explain.”
“No. You listen to me. The person who really earned that investment from Winthrop may never see their dream come true all because you couldn’t keep that stupid fantasy in your pants. Can you live with that?”
He turns and stares at the ceiling.
“You hurt them. You hurt me.” I tap my chest. I hate that I’m about to cry. I hate him. So damn much. “You act like I’m the superficial jerk, but at least I was honest. The only one who was superficial in this relationship was you. ”
A tear leaks despite my best efforts to hold it back.
Horrified, I turn away and stride for the door.
Griffin runs to stop me and grabs my wrist. “Wait. Please.”
“Don’t touch me.” I wrench my hand away. My breath escapes, hard and fast. “You know something, Griffin? You were weird back in high school, but you were never ugly. Not until now.”
Griffin staggers back.
I run from the building and out into the dusk.
Tears blur my vision.
My heart feels like someone’s taken a rifle and blown a hole through it. People surround me, but I feel more alone than I ever have in my entire life.
Suddenly, a pair of arms pulls me in.
I start to struggle but stop when I recognize Chandra.
“What are you doing here?” I sniff.
“I caught a taxi and followed your behind.” She smiles in understanding. “Come on. Your girl could use some ice cream.”
I link my hand in hers and dry my tears.
In a husky, broken voice, I admit, “Ice cream sounds great.”
28 Griffin
I call in sick to work the next day. It’s lousy timing and I’ve got a lousy excuse. Martin, my supervisor, is less than pleased, but I really don’t give a damn.
My heart’s been locked in a vice since Cobie stormed out of my apartment.
The sensation is both persistent and painful.
I’m pretty sure I’m about to die.
I’ve toyed with the idea of going to the doctor, but I already know how that conversation is going to go. There’s no medical relief for excessive guilt and heartbreak.
Some things are meant to be toughed out.
My heart isn’t the only part of my body affected by my break up with Cobie.
It’s around mid-day when I pass a mirror and notice the first pimple rising like a red sun beneath my pale skin.
It’s hard and painful to the touch.
The rest of my acne pops out later that night and early the day after. By the time I get ready for work, I realize my face has completely broken out.
I’m so embarrassed I go down to the store to buy makeup in hopes of covering up the redness.
As I rattle around the concealer isle, I’m completely lost. When I look around for help, the clerk meets my eye and then frowns at my hoodie like I’m some kind of thief.
I leave soon after that.
But there’s a part of me that wishes I’d gone through with the purchase.
Especially when I step into Winthrop Corp later.
It seems like everyone is staring at my face, whispering about me. Laughing behind my back.
With my skin breaking out and forming big, welt-like clusters, I feel like I’m barely human.
That notion is reinforced when Ella rises from her desk as she usually does to greet me. Only this time, one glance at my face invites a grimace. She covers the reaction quickly, as most try to do when they’re disgusted in a professional setting.
“Morning, Griff,” she says half-heartedly.
There’s no excessive flirting today. No cleavage adjustments. No attempts to ask me out.
She just looks away in discomfort.
I head to the elevator, clutching my satchel tight and reminding myself that I have bills to pay, which is why I need to venture out into society and keep my job.
As I stand in front of the elevator, I see Jenna approaching from the corner of my eye. I’m hoping she’ll ignore me, but I’m not that lucky.
The brunette studies my face for a long minute, making no attempts to hide her gaze.
The elevator bell rings.
The doors open.
I step forward, eager to get away from her.
Jenna snorts behind her hand and, as she passes me, mumbles—“Serves you right.”
Needless to say, I don’t get on the elevator after that.
As I continue about my day, I start to long for the unfiltered honesty of my high school bullies. Grown folks are a lot subtler about their distaste and it brings more shame than if they’d just point to my face and ask if I was washing it.
I’m dwindling right back to my fifteen-year-old self. Holding my head low. Waiting for someone to make fun of me, even if it’s ‘innocent teasing’.
No one’s made a comment yet, but my disquiet is mounting.
In the afternoon, I head to Doc’s lab to discuss the mass production of the conditioners.
The moment his eyes land on me, he bawls. “Whoa! Griffin, what happened to your face?”
It’s the first honest remark I’ve heard all day.
And it’s from Doc.
I start to laugh.
He stares at me like I’m crazy, but I can’t stop the chuckles that are pouring out of my mouth with such strength they force me to my knees.
“Griffin?”
“Sorry. Yes?” I wipe away a tear and release one last guffaw.
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all, Doc.”
He looks me up and down. “You broke up with Ms. Simmons, didn’t you?”
My lips clamp together.
I stagger to my feet.
He sighs and, instead of pursuing the topic or trying to suggest solutions for my face, he dives straight into business and doesn’t make mention of either Cobie or my acne again.
I leave his office feeling both relieved and a little sad. Cobie’s conditioners are coming along well. They were the right choice for our team, for our company.
But I knew that before I saw her name.
I should have told her that.
I should have said a lot of things, but I was too shocked. Too out of it. And now I’m too ashamed to face her again.
Defending myself now would be foolish.
Cobie was right.
About all of it.
Deep inside, I’m just as shallow and judgmental as all the people who hated me for my appearance.
Damn, I hated myself.
All on my own.
And I never learned the lesson. Instead, I ran away from home and worked my butt off to change that appearance so people would love me.
And still, I never loved myself.
Introspection isn’t my strong suit, but I find I’m doing that a lot lately. People’s response to me, based on my appearance, still impacts my self-esteem.
It shouldn’t.
And I’m working on it.
Slowly.
I’m working on loving myself.
A few days later, I gather the courage to head to the gym.
Ollie’s busy with another client when I walk in, so I make myself comfortable on the weights and pump iron to the blasting rock music pouring from the speakers all aro
und.
When I’m almost through with the set, Ollie joins me.
His glance barely grazes my face as he smiles in welcome. “What are you doing tonight? I need a drinking buddy.”
I stop and survey him. Every so often, Ollie calls me out to drink a few rounds while he watches and swirls root beer around in his glass. He claims it helps calm his nerves.
“What happened?”
He shakes his head—don’t want to talk about it.
I nod. “Just let me finish.”
Ollie helps me through the set, looking at me and talking to me as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
And it isn’t, I remind myself.
I’m still Griffin.
He’s still Ollie.
My appearance doesn’t change that.
A couple other guys from the gym join us at the bar later.
We crowd around the counter, laughing and watching the game.
During a commercial, I sip my drink and observe the people around me.
No one’s watching me.
No one’s staring.
No one cares.
In the midst of my inner crisis, I’m struck with immense gratefulness. I never allowed myself to get close to anyone in high school, assuming they’d never want to be around a guy who looked like me.
I wonder how many genuine friendships I missed out on thinking like that?
The musing sticks with me long after we leave the bar.
It’s one that bothers me.
I used to blame all my misery on my appearance, but maybe… I was a part of the problem?
The moment I get home, my phone rings, jarring me from my reflections.
It’s Mom.
I answer.
“Hey, Ma.”
Her voice is sweet in my ears. “How is my beautiful son?”
“I’m good.”
She pauses.
I move to the couch and open my laptop, planning to do some work while I talk to her. “Mom?”
“Nothing.” She laughs softly. “It’s just the first time you’ve never argued with me about calling you beautiful.”
“I’d prefer the term handsome,” I tease. “But I’ll accept beautiful.”
“You sound happy.”
“I’m working on it.”
She giggles. “I’m sure Cobie is helping you with that.”
“Cobie?” I lift my head.
“Griffin Bech, did you really think you could keep that secret from me?”
“Huh?”
“You and Cobie Simmons.” My heart thuds as she continues. “I’d love to hear the story of how you got together. I know how obsessed you were with her in high school. And wasn’t she one of the popular girls? Isn’t that amazing?”
I grimace. “I wasn’t obsessed, Mom. When you say it like that, I sound deranged.”
“Cobie thought it was sweet.”
I guess I now know how Cobie found out. “Mom?”
“Yes, hun?”
“I love you.”
A stunned laugh. “I love you too, but why the sudden confession?”
“In high school, I probably wasn’t the easiest person to live with, but you and Dad were always there for me. I’m grateful.”
She sniffs, getting emotional almost immediately. “I’m sorry, Griffin. I know how much you struggled to fit in back then. And we didn’t have the money to… I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more. I really do.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You gave me everything I needed.”
We chat a bit more about the past and about what my family is up to and then I hang up.
Talking with Mom is oddly therapeutic.
That night I manage to sleep deeply for the first time in a long, long while.
29 Cobie
“What are you going to do about Winthrop?” Chandra lounges on my couch, her long black, hair splayed behind her. She scratches her nose and adds, “Isn’t your final meeting today?”
“Did you memorize my schedule?”
She turns the channel. “I didn’t have anything better to do. So are you going or not?”
“No.”
“Are you calling in sick again?”
“I’ve decided I’m going to drop Winthrop completely.”
“Great.” She slants me a dry smile. “How are you going to pay the cancellation fee?”
I grimace, my hands stalling in the sink where I’m washing and sanitizing the combs and hair tools. “I’ll take out a loan.”
“You know what I love the most about you?” Chandra sits up.
“What?”
““Your delusional optimism.”
“Any other suggestions then?”
“If you’re so worried about running into Him Who Will Not Be Named, it means you still have feelings for him.”
“I don’t,” I say firmly.
That’s a lie.
I so do.
But I wish I didn’t.
“Stop stalling and talk to Griffin,” Chandra insists.
“I can say the same for you. When are you going to do something about Rick?”
She flings herself back and pouts. “This again?”
“The only reason I didn’t call the cops was because you said you’d deal with him yourself.”
“I’m hungry.” Chandra grabs her phone and starts swiping. “What do you feel like eating for lunch?”
“Nothing.”
Chandra sits up again. “Stop being stubborn. Go to the damn meeting.”
“No.”
“Look, I can’t afford to get kicked out of another place. If you cancel the contract and go into debt, we’ll be evicted. Would you do that to your best friend?” She bats her eyes. “Hm?”
“Your bakery’s making more than enough. Why are you still slumming with me?”
Her eyes skitter away. “I… might have gone a little overboard with all the new appliances I bought for Zania in the kitchen. Right now, I can barely handle the employee’s salary and the lease every month.”
“Poor thing.” I pout on her behalf. “But I’m still not going.”
She jumps out of the couch. “Fine. Then I’ll just speak to Griffin myself. I’ll tell him that Cobie’s walking around like someone died because he hasn’t been around and if he can please come and kiss her to put her out of her misery.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Her wild-eyed look tells me she would.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
“Good girl.” She smiles smugly at me and that grin returns to her face a few hours later, when I’m dressed and heading out the door. “Go get your man.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too. Go bring home some money.” She blows me a kiss, bops me away with her hip and slams the door.
I grumble all the way to Winthrop.
The sun shines brightly when I step out of the taxi and face the imposing building. My heart hammers in my chest and I wipe my sweaty palms on my shirt.
This was such a bad idea.
There’s no way I can handle seeing Griffin again.
I turn to leave when I hear my name. Jenna trots toward me. She’s looking cute and chic in a patterned mini-skirt and ruffled blouse.
Linking her arms in mine like we’ve been friends forever—when in reality, I never did get back to her about hanging out—she smiles widely. “It’s been forever, girl.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I hear the prep for the conditioner launch is going well. They’re predicting it’ll be a hit.”
“Oh thanks. I haven’t really done much though. It was all…” My throat closes up.
“Griffin?” She snorts. “Ohmygosh. Isn’t it so funny what happened to him?”
“What happened?” I ask, alarmed.
“He thought he was all that. But his face…” She gestures to her cheek and jaw, her nose crinkled in laughter. “It cleared up now, but it was hilarious. You should have seen it.”
I have no idea what she’s talking
about, but I don’t have a chance to ask because Jenna sees her co-workers as we near the elevator and practically dumps me to talk to them.
I board the lift in thoughtful silence.
At least that bizarre conversation helps calm my nerves. Now, I’m more curious about what happened to Griffin than scared about how awkward things will be between us.
The elevator opens and I walk out. I’m familiar with the route I should take and nod to the receptionist on my way to the conference room.
“Cobie!” Someone yells out of nowhere.
I yelp.
Todd chuckles and touches my elbow. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”
“Sort of.” I keep walking.
He scrambles to keep up. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you find Griffin’s place?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I was worried.” He glances down. “In fact, I was waiting for you to call back.”
I smile politely and inch toward the conference doors. “Sorry.”
“I tried to text you. So many times, but I lost my nerves.” He chuckles. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t punk out the next time I see you.”
I reach for the door.
Todd’s hand covers mine and stops me. “Cobie, would you have dinner with—?”
Suddenly, the conference door wrenches open.
Todd jumps back. “Griffin.”
“Hey.” He looks at Todd and then glances at me. I hear his surprised intake of breath and notice the flicker of his eyelashes. His deep voice rumbles my name. “Cobie.”
I swear I don’t intend it, but my heart swells at the sight of him. Every nerve in my body aches to touch him, to hear his heartbeat, to soak in his presence. I lower my eyes to the ground before he reads the longing in my gaze.
After spending so many days being angry at Griffin, I’m stunned by my pathetic reaction.
What is this sorcery?
“I was, uh, just stepping out for some coffee. You want any?” Griffin stutters.
“No, I’m good,” Todd says.
“So am I.” I escape from both men and head into the conference room.
For most of the meeting, I keep my head down and murmur my approval when I’m spoken to.
My heels tap the ground.
I just want to leave, regroup, inspect why my feelings for Griffin have only gotten stronger instead of weaker.
