by J. P. Grider
"That is so cool. And you're going to school to design them. That's neat. What made you start liking cars like that?"
"My step-father." I didn't want to tell her that he actually collects classic cars like grade school boys collect baseball cards, so I just say, "He collects car magazines, and I've always loved looking through them, so..." I digress, hating the fact that I was kind of lying to her. Instead I change the subject. "What made you want to go into child psychology? Besides that you like children, that is."
"My family. Mental illness runs in my family, so I kind of took an interest in it."
"Is that what's wrong with your father? You said he was ill."
She raises her eyebrows. "Um, well he does suffer from clinical depression, but that's not why he's sick. He has stage four lung cancer."
"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry."
Cali shrugs. "Thanks."
An awkward silence enters the conversation. I have no idea what to say now, so I end up just looking her in the eyes.
"Stop," she says. "Don't feel sorry for me. I don't like that."
"I'm not...I'm not feeling sorry for you. I just feel sorry that your dad is sick. I'll drop it."
"Thank you. So...where do you get money for the parts for your car? I mean twenty-three dollars is not a huge paycheck."
"Cali." I sigh, not exactly sure where I want to go with this. Do I want to tell her I have money, that my parents are wealthy, or should I maybe find out what it is about money she has a problem with. If she even does have a problem. It could just be my imagination. Maybe she's just very frugal and, oh what the heck? "Do you, like, you seem you have...I don't know, maybe you seem hung up on money and how much things cost and stuff."
The minute I say it out loud, I feel like such an ass. Her whole demeanor changes - her shoulders stiffen, her back straightens, and her face looks angry as hell. Fuck.
"Money? I'm not hung up on money. I'm piss-poor, how can I be hung up on money?"
I need to fix this fast. "I mean...you worry a lot about money. That's all, I didn't mean..."
Cali pushes her drink away, and her eyes are fuming. "Yeah I worry a lot about money. When you don't know where your next meal is coming from or how your mother's gonna afford to pay the rent and electricity and... and all the fuckin' medical bills by herself, you worry. I make a measly eight-fifty an hour on a thirty hour a week job. Most of that covers my car insurance, my gas, and half the groceries. Not to mention the student loans I'm already paying interest on each month. So excuse me for worrying a lot about money."
I reach for her hand. She pulls it away. "Cali."
"Don't." She lowers her head a bit, but she doesn't get up to walk away.
"I'm sorry. You're right. Those are important reasons to worry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Please forgive me."
She looks me in the eye and shrugs her little shoulder again. "Yeah. It's fine."
"Can I help at all?"
"Griffin." She stands and grabs her purse. "I told you before I don't want your pity." She takes a five dollar bill out of her purse and puts it on the table. "I hope this covers my drink," she says, her retreating form walking toward the exit.
I wave over to Casey that we're coming back, and I follow Cali out the door.
"California," I call. She's already several feet away. "Cali. Please." Catching up to her, I take her by the shoulder and spin her gently. Cupping her face in my hands, I confess, "I'm a blithering idiot around you. I speak without realizing what I'm saying. I...I..." I stop speaking, and instead, peering deep into her charcoal eyes, I can't help but lean in and taste her lips. The moment my lips touch hers, I'm in Heaven. Instead of pulling away, Cali moves in closer to me, accepting my kiss. Taking that as an invitation to continue, I slide my hands through her loose curls and yank just a whit past gentle. Which evidently, judging by the groan that emanates from her throat, she likes. We are locked in the kiss a few more seconds before she pulls away.
Letting my forehead drop against hers, I apologize again. "I really am sorry, Cali. I did not mean to ask you something so personal. Really."
She brings her fingertips between us and places them on my lips. "It's okay. I get too sensitive about it all. I overreacted and I'm sorry."
Holding her hands now, I tip my forehead back so I can really look at her. "You have every right to be sensitive about it. I'm sorry I was so insensitive..."
"Stop," she interrupts me, "It's fine."
"Good. Will you come back in and eat?" I brush a long curl behind her ear.
"Yeah. Let's go back. I'm so embarrassed." She cringes when we walk back in.
"It's fine. Everyone else is too busy watching the game on the big screen."
She laughs.
"Here's your dinner, guys." Casey places our plates down in front of us. "Another round?"
"Sure," I tell her. "So, Cal. You like Guns N' Roses. We've established that. What other bands do you like?"
The way she takes a bite of her fry while she thinks about her answer, sends more of those tingles down south. I take a deep inhale to get my mind back on the conversation, and exhale, realizing it'd done no good.
"Well I like a lot of different music. I mean, I like the stuff on WPLJ and Z100. I like Fall-Out Boy, Ed Sheeran, Daughtry, but I also like some of those 80s bands, like Motley Crew and Skid Row, and some 70s bands. Led Zeppelin, The Eagles, The Doors."
"Wow. Cool. I never met a girl who liked the classics."
"What about you? No, wait. Let me guess." She comically moves her hand to her chin and taps her upper lip with her forefinger. "You have a Guns N' Roses cassette tape in your 1969 car, so I'm guessing you like bands like Led Zeppelin too, The Who... um, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath." She giggles. "Am I close?"
"You're more than close. You're spot on. Is that like a gift of yours or something - reading people's minds?"
Now her giggle turns into a laugh-out-loud chuckle. "I can't read minds, Griffin. It was just kind of easy to figure out what kind of music you like. I mean, going by your choice of cars. But... do you like any current bands?"
"Of course. I like Nirvana and..."
"Not current, I hate to inform you."
"Right, um, well I like a lot of indie bands. The Minx, O.W.L.S., Bird, oh, I like Fall Out Boy, and Daughtry, but they're more mainstream than indie, but you get the picture."
"Yeah. You like some good music."
"Glad you approve. So how is it that you know of these bands? Zeppelin. The Who. The Eagles. The Doors. You're a baby, where'd you hear of them?"
"I'm not that young, but my parents were really into music. We still have all their old albums. Before my dad got too sick, he'd put on a record and we'd all sit around listening to it. I guess they liked reliving their youth or something, but..."
"A record? You have a record player in your house?"
"Yup. We have two. My dad's stereo from when he was, like, a teenager or something, and my mom's little red and white portable."
"They still work?" I'm amazed. I mean, I have a record player, but one of those new-fangled ones that come with an MP3 input.
"Yeah they still work. Mom and Dad take care of everything. When you're indigent, you tend to hang on to things and take good care of them. You never know when you'll have the money to get a new one." She shrugs but she's smiling.
And the smile is back in Cali's eyes. She looks absolutely gorgeous when she's uninhibited and cheery. Now it's up to me to keep her that way.
13
Cali
Outside, an hour and a half later, the sky has darkened. It's not as clear as Saturday night, but the air is still warm, and I wish I didn't have to get home to my father so that I could hang with Griffin a little while longer.
"Wanna come back to my house?" Griffin asks, taking my hand as he walks me to the car.
"Mom's working her second job tonight. The nurse leaves at nine. I really should be home in case Dad needs me." My mood has quickly dropped, since I'm cursing the nu
rse for having another life outside caring for my father.
"Okay. Maybe another night," he assures me.
"I'd like that."
Griffin opens my door and waits for me to get in before closing it. "Thank you," I say to the closed door, so he doesn't even hear me.
"How 'bout we drive around 'til the song's over?" he suggests, referring to the Guns N' Roses song we were listening to on the way here.
"’Sweet Child O' Mine’ has to be my favorite GNR song," I tell him.
"Mine too, sweet child."
I chuckle, because I catch him cringing after he says that - clearly kicking himself for being so corny. I like corny though, and this just warms my heart even more for Griffin Brooks.
In my parking lot, he turns off the ignition. Nervously tapping his steering wheel with his left hand, he asks, "Is it okay if we sit on your porch? Or do you have to go in?"
"What? You want to stay?" I ask, even though it was a stupid question. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't, right?
He stops tapping the wheel and runs his fingertips over my hand, which happens to be lying on the edge of my bucket seat. "Yes. I do."
"Well," I hesitate. "I at least have to check on my dad, but yeah, we can sit for a while."
He gets out of the car, and before I even have a chance to climb out of the bucket seat, he's there, helping me out. Hand in hand, we walk up to my front door.
"I'll be right back," I tell him while I unlock the door.
"Sure."
Going in to see my Dad, I feel my entire body grow warm. Griffin Brooks is sitting outside waiting for me. I am so glad he didn't let my stupid fixation on money affect how tonight went. Getting defensive about my financial situation has been commonplace lately, and when he brought up my sensitivity towards money, I couldn't help but flip. My parents have been drilling it into my head how important it is to make sure not to spend money on anything but the necessities, but their views on the vast differences and unfairness between the two societies - those with money and those without - are starting to get in the way of establishing my own opinions. I need to stop this insanity that they started.
Anyway, I really need to stop thinking and get back outside to Griffin. After covering my sleeping father with an extra blanket, I tell Millicent she can leave. I then grab two bottles of water to bring outside.
"Here ya go. In case you get thirsty." I hand Griffin one of the bottles. "Sorry it's so dark. The porch light is broken."
"Thank you. And yes, I noticed. Your dad okay?"
"Yeah. Sleeping."
At this point, Millicent walks out the front door.
"Bye, Calista. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Millie, thank you again."
"Hey. It's what I do."
I can't help but smile. Without Millicent around to help Dad, there would be no college for me. There would be no paycheck to help pay the bills. It would be me up there spending every hour with my father. At nineteen years old, and not the most capable person in the world, I doubt I'd do half as well as she does with him.
My heart rate speeds up when I sit down next to Griffin. All I can think about is kissing him again. Judging by the silence, I'm hoping that's what he is thinking as well.
"Hey California?"
"Yeah?"
"Has your dad been sick long?"
My stomach flinches. I guess he's not thinking about kissing me. "Um, almost four years since we found out," I mumble, not enjoying talking about my sick father.
"Did he smoke?"
"Everyone asks that." To his ears, I must sound annoyed, or abrupt, but it's the truth, someone has lung cancer and everyone automatically assumes it's the person's fault.
"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I didn't mean to assume."
"It's okay," I say. I really don't want to be annoyed at Griffin. I like him too much. "No. He didn't smoke. He worked for a chemical company for twenty years. Actually, I'm surprised it took him this long to get sick."
"Oh, wow. That sucks." Griffin draws out the word sucks, like he's really thinking about how much it does suck. There's a genuine kindness to Griffin.
And it's hot.
"Yeah. It does suck." Really needing to get off the subject, I turn the conversation to his parents. "So...what do your parents do?"
He hesitates. "Um, well Mom is a housewife and my stepfather ... he works at a restaurant."
I notice that he winces when he answers. "Do you not like your stepfather?"
He looks surprised by my question. "No no. He's good. I like him. I love him. He's all I've ever known."
"Really? You don't know your biological father?"
"No. He died shortly after I was born. My mom remarried when I was young."
"Oh. That's good. I guess."
"Yeah. Cali," he reaches for my hand. "Can we stop making small talk? I mean, as much as I want to get to know you, I'd really like to kiss you again." Griffin moves his other hand to my knee and turns me to face him. He runs his hand up my thigh, then lifts it, bringing his thumb to my lips. Lightly he swipes it back and forth, causing a stirring of flutters deep in my stomach. "If I remember correctly, your lips were soft. And sweet." He moves in closer, his thumb still brushing against my lips. "And warm. And..."
At this point, I can't take it anymore. My insides want to scream. I want to scream. There is no way I can take another second of staring at him without kissing him. "Are you going to tell me all night how my lips feel or are you gonna kiss them?"
Griffin's face breaks into a smile. "Oh...I am definitely going to kiss them." He puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me close. His lips are fleshy and plump and they feel so good against mine. When the tip of his tongue sweeps across my mouth, the warmth of it not only heats up my mouth, but sends a warm tingle straight down between my legs. In all my life, I have never been kissed the way Griffin is kissing me now. It is warm, tender, wild, and passionate. And I never want it to end.
When his hands slide down my neck, my body becomes unrestrained. I press closer and nearly sit on his lap. He takes my lead and pulls my legs over his thighs and runs his other hand over my hip. The throaty groan he lets out when his hand slides beneath my shirt is almost desperate. "Oh how I wish we could have gone to my apartment," he moans, his lips now sucking on my neck.
"Mmmm." I wish we could have too. In his apartment. Alone. Not on a busy street. With cars passing by at thirty miles an hour.
His hands run up and down the skin of my back, sending warm currents of electricity beneath its surface. He whispers into my ear, "You drive me crazy, California. Since the day I saw you in the bank, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
While he vigorously continues to dot little kisses over my ears and neck, I confess with a shaky voice, "You're all I've been thinking about, too."
His mouth reaches my lips again and together we fall into another earth-shattering kiss. If we'd been standing, my knees would be buckling. When our lips finally part, and I am looking at Griffin's beautiful face, with only the light from the street lamp shining down, he takes on an almost ethereal glow. As if he were sent to me by the Man above Himself. I'm suddenly eerily comforted by that bit of knowledge.
"Cali?"
Abruptly I pull away and hop off Griffin's lap. "Mom."
Griffin quickly stands and holds out his hand. "Uh, ma'am."
My mother just nods. "Hi Cali-bear. Hello," she says in Griffin's direction.
"Uh..." Instead of saying anything, I just watch my mother turn the door knob.
"See you in the morning, baby. I'm going to sleep," she says, fatigue dripping from her words.
"I love you, Mom," I manage to slip in before she shuts the door.
"Was she mad that I was here?" Griffin asks, his hands now tucked deep into his front jeans pockets.
"No. She's just tired." I sigh. "She works way too much."
"I should be going anyway, Cali. We got an early class tomorrow."
"Oh yeah. Oral Comm."<
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Griffin reaches his arms around me in another embrace. "I enjoyed tonight," he says, his smile lopsided and adorable.
Unable to keep from smiling ear to ear, I tell him that I did too.
His eyes fall to my lips and before I'm able to register what he's doing, he accosts my mouth with his lips and tongue. Since I'm standing this time, my knees do go weak and I grab his shoulders gently to keep from making a fool of myself. He pulls away and taps my forehead with his. "See ya tomorrow?"
"See you tomorrow."
His ass is perfect and small and bubbly, and as he struts to his car, I think how delicious Griffin Brooks is.
And how lucky I am to have met him.
14
Griffin
Never before have I ever wanted to get to class early, but today I do. Oral Communications has now become my favorite class of the semester.
"Hey, California," I call to her when she glides through the doorway. When she sits down next to me, I lean over to whisper in her ear. "I dreamt about you last night."
She blushes. "Yeah?" Her voice has a song in it again.
Still leaning in close to her, I kiss her right on her sweet mouth and let my lips linger for several seconds. "Can I see you tonight?"
"After work?" She licks the lips I just kissed.
"Yeah." The little hairs on her forearm are light and soft as I repeatedly run my fingertips across it.
"Okay." She's biting her lip now. And blushing. And I'm getting a hard-on right here at my desk.
"I can pick you up at seven again," I breathe out. "Come to my house? We can order pizza or something."
"Sounds good." Her words sing.
"Do you have a break today before work?" I'm not sure I'm able to wait until tonight to hold Cali in my arms again.
"I have forty-five minutes after this class before my next one."
Yes. "Great. Wanna get a cup of coffee after class?"
"'Kay." She blushes. She smiles. She bites her lip and continues smiling. And I think that is so fucking hot.