I didn’t want a guy like that. I wanted to stay clear of guys like that. I liked sensitive, caring guys—like Aiden. Guys I could hold hands with, write songs with. I missed that so much—writing with Aiden.
I sighed, feeling sad anew. Kendra had said Aiden and Milo were the same, but they weren’t. Milo could sing, yeah—he had a nice voice—but he had no interest in writing songs and he kind of made me feel like a freak when I told him how much I liked to write them.
I sighed again because those things had nothing to do with why Kendra was looking at me the way she was. She wanted to know why I didn’t embrace sparks.
“Griffin and I don’t have anything in common,” I grumbled. “I have a lot in common with vanilla.”
“Like what?” Kendra sort of sneered—but not in a mean way exactly, more in a Get Real way. “Besides Aiden being a girl and you being a girl, what else did you have in common?”
Ugh! She was only messing around about Aiden being a girl, I knew that, but I hated people making fun of Aiden—his being emotional and sensitive and everything. Even now that he had broken my heart I was tempted to stick up for him. But I didn’t. I bit my lips together, resisting the urge. Aiden wasn’t mine anymore. He was going to have to fight his own battles. I needed to release him.
Instead of defending him, finally I said, “Aiden and I used to write songs together. I loved that.” I slunk down in my seat feeling like I might cry. “I miss that.”
I really did. I missed that more than anything—having that connection with a guy, a devoted interest in something we both loved and could work on together, be partners with.
Kendra didn’t say anything else. I think she felt sorry for me.
CHAPTER 15
Only a week after backing Mom’s car into the 7-Eleven dumpster I missed the after school late bus. I don’t know how it happened, exactly. I’d had to stay after school to take a make-up test for French because I had missed class due to a dentist appointment, but when I finished the make-up test I still had a lot of time left before the late bus was supposed to come, so I went into the library to work on this song I was writing called, “No More Writing Songs Together,” and I guess I lost track of time.
When I realized how late it was I scrambled toward the library exit and was almost out the door before I realized I forgot my song-journal behind. I had to turn around and go back for it … and then I missed the bus.
The crazy thing was—this wasn’t even my first time to forget the journal. Well, okay, this particular one I hadn’t ever forgotten. But, of course, I’d filled up hundreds of them since I started keeping one. A few years ago I had forgot one in the school cafeteria. Or it might have been in a class. Or the school bus. Actually, I had no idea where I’d left it. But it turned up missing and I searched my house for it for days—weeks. Then it showed up—in the mail! Someone sent it back to me. The freaky thing was though: it didn’t have my name in it—anywhere. So, how did the person know it was mine?
I had no idea, but realizing someone had found it—and probably read it—was creepy enough. But somehow they had known it was mine and where I lived, but they didn’t let me know who they were. They sent it back without a note or a return address or anything. It gave me the shivers just thinking about it.
But after that, for years, I was always cautious with my notebook—making sure I had it at all times and that I didn’t accidently leave it around anywhere or forget it. But d’oh! Today I almost did forget it. I came so close it made me shudder.
When I realized I missed the late bus, I consoled myself thinking, “Well, at least I’ve got my notebook.”
Seriously. I was able to console myself with that—even though the day was cold and drizzly and I had a six-mile walk ahead of me.
But I barely made it off the school grounds before Griffin’s red Mustang pulled up beside me. When I saw it, my heart got all fluttery and violent and I almost tripped over my own feet.
He opened his window. “Need a ride?”
My pulse raced hearing his offer and seeing his adorable, boyish grin. Little did he know but I’d secretly left him a huge cookie again—at his locker during third period this morning and I’d written him another anonymous poem to go with it. This time the poem was about his kiss. But I’d made it really vague again, so he wouldn’t have a clue it was from me.
“Um …” I tried ignoring the small voice at the back of my head that was screaming, “Stick with vanilla, Ally! You need vanilla. This flavor will only give you cavities!”
I smiled. “Sure! That would be great!”
As I rounded the car to climb into the passenger seat I tried reasoning with the voice. After all, it was cold and rainy out. I’m only accepting the ride to get out of the wet, I told myself.
It seemed perfectly reasonable. Right?
As I buckled up my seatbelt the weather took a turn for the worse. It started drizzling harder, practically raining. Like it was a sign—I was supposed to be in Griffin’s car. It made me smile. Only, right then, Griffin reached out to flip on his windshield wipers and right then I remembered: Gummy bears!
Guh!
I’d slid a bunch of them under Griffin’s windshield wipers this morning. Why? I don’t know exactly. Just for fun, I guess. Mom had dropped me off at school after my dentist appointment and she had to write me a note so I could be excused for missing French class, so she pulled into the nearest parking spot to write the note and it was right next to Griffin’s Mustang. And so when I got out of Mom’s car and I was right there, next to Griffin’s prized possession, it seemed I had to do something.
At first I just had the impulse to write Griffin a quick, anonymous note or draw him a smiley face or something—something to tuck under his windshield wipers. But when I reached into my backpack, what I pulled out was my stash of gummy bears.
Seeing the colorful bears gave me an idea. After all, it was a drizzly, moist day and a note would get sad and soggy. But gummy bears—well, I figured gummy bears might get … pretty.
You never know.
So, giggling a little—‘cause I’m a lunatic—I put a handful (or two) of gummy bears under his windshield wipers, thinking the outcome might be kind of cool and beautiful. You know, add a little color to Griffin’s life, like his kiss had added to mine.
So, see, it was metaphoric. Kind of.
But whoa. To be sitting here with Griffin when he turned on his windshield wipers—that was something I hadn’t expected.
As he flipped them on I let out a little gasp but then quickly turned it into a cough and tried to look innocent even as a watery rainbow smeared across his windshield. Griffin tilted his head looking confused by the colors the wipers were producing. Each time they flipped a new rainbow spread across his windshield.
Griffin grinned, cocking his eyebrows. “What the …?”
I bit my lips together to keep a laugh from bursting out. The look on his face—so bewildered—it had me ready to roll on the floor laughing hysterically, but I tried my hardest to keep a straight face and look bewildered too.
‘Cause, well, I didn’t want him to know it was me. I just didn’t. Didn’t want him to know I had been thinking about him, and that I had put candy on his car. Just because it was embarrassing. ‘Cause he already knew—knew I had a huge, stupid crush on him.
For a moment I almost let myself believe I was in the clear and got away with my stalker-girl trick. My heart actually started to quiet slightly.
Only …
Just then I noticed my gummy bears bag was sticking out of my jacket pocket. D’oh! I quickly shoved it deep inside, trying to do it inconspicuously, hoping Griffin didn’t notice. Only, I’d been a spaz about it—‘cause yikes!—total evidence that I was the rainbow-producing prankster.
It had my heart all in an uproar. I snuck a quick sideways glance at Griffin. An amused grin played on his lips, but that could have still just been because of the rainbow on his windshield, so I wasn’t sure if he had noticed the bag in m
y pocket or not. It was hard to tell with Griffin. He seemed to be a casual, easy-going kind of guy, yet it seemed nothing got past him. Nothing. And it didn’t help that he always had a sardonic smirk on his face—like he knew a funny secret or joke or something and really wanted to share it, only he knew it would be totally inappropriate.
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.
CHAPTER 16
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. AN
D 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 leaned 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?
CHAPTER 17
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.
The Heartbreaker Next Door (The Hockey Team Book 1) Page 15