by Susannah Nix
Once the imaginary lines had been breached, it turned into a selfie free-for-all. Even Alice worked up the nerve to snag a few with some of her favorite cast members—minus Griffin, who she avoided for reasons she couldn’t articulate. Possibly because she was having trouble reconciling Work Griffin with Home Griffin. On the one hand there was the hot young actor plastered on billboards all over town who was worshipped by the crew, and on the other there was her shockingly normal roommate who she’d gotten used to wearing pajamas around. There was also a sense—correct or not—that their relationship transcended the need for a goodbye selfie. Unlike everyone else here, Alice would remain in regular contact with him after tonight.
Besides, whenever she glanced his way, he seemed to be flirting with a different female crew member. Which was fine. But she wasn’t interested in competing for his attention.
Instead, she focused on having her own fun, dividing her time between the bar and the dance floor, which was now packed with bodies and took up almost half the room. At some point she lost track of how many drinks she’d had, how many people she’d talked to, or what time it was. She had a definite memory of doing a bump and grind with an Emmy-winning writer, but the rest of it was a blur. After a particularly vigorous dance-off to her favorite Bruno Mars song, the drinking and the exertion caught up with her, and she stumbled away from the throng of dancers writhing to Janelle Monáe, in search of some water and maybe a place to sit down and catch her breath.
As Alice elbowed her way through the crowd in front of the bar, an intoxicated producer’s assistant accidentally hip-checked her, sending her careening directly into a startled Griffin.
“Whoa,” he said, wrapping a hand around her arm to keep her from losing her balance. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She tried to focus on his chest, because his face was too pretty to stare at this close—and also too blurry.
Yeah, okay, maybe she’d had a little too much to drink.
“You want some water?” He pressed a plastic bottle into her hand. It was blessedly cold, and she was seized by the urge to stick it down the front of her dress to cool herself off. Instead, she settled for drinking half of it in one long glug.
“Better?” Griffin asked with an amused look.
“Yes, much. Thank you.”
She tried to give the bottle back to him but he shook his head. “Keep it. I’ve been hydrating all night, while you’ve been out there dehydrating.”
In that case she was going to press the damn thing against her overheated chest, propriety be damned. She sighed in ecstasy as the cool plastic hit her skin, and saw Griffin’s eyes flicker to her cleavage, then quickly away in embarrassment. It was gratifying to know he didn’t just see her as a sexless dog sitter.
“Have you been having fun?” she yelled over the music. She was a little surprised he hadn’t yet left with one of the many adoring and clearly willing women she’d seen him flirting with throughout the night.
His smile went glassy. “Yep. Great time.”
She knew him well enough by now to recognize the lie. “I’m sorry it’s not more fun for you.”
He let his smile slip as he shrugged. “It’s hard saying goodbye to everyone, and I don’t have the advantage of being drunk to numb myself to it.”
She suspected he was also still harboring guilt over the show ending. After all, there wouldn’t be any goodbyes tonight if only he’d chucked his burgeoning film career and renewed his contract with a modestly-rated network drama with maybe another season or two left in its run before it was canceled for mediocre ratings. Not that anyone in their right mind would make such a choice. But he seemed to enjoy beating himself up over things that weren’t his fault. Not that Alice would know anything about that.
A gaggle of people from the production office pushed past them, and Griffin reached a protective arm out to shift her toward him, using his mass to shield her from being jostled. “We haven’t taken our selfie yet.”
Alice covered her face with her hands and shook her head in horror. “I’m all sweaty and messy.”
His fingers closed around hers, tugging her hands down. “Are you kidding? You look beautiful.”
Her head jerked up and she found herself looking directly into his eyes. In the dim room they shone with pinpricks of light, like stars in the night sky. The way he was looking at her made her stomach knot and her heart clatter against the inside of her chest.
Alice shook her head again. Whatever she might think she saw in his eyes was only a product of her alcohol-fueled imagination. One embarrassed peek at her cleavage did not mean Griffin Beach was in any way interested in her. She turned her face away from his, feeling flustered. “My mascara’s probably running down my face.”
“Your mascara’s fine. Look.” He held his phone up so she could see herself in the camera app.
Shockingly, she didn’t look that bad, even after a night of hard drinking and sweaty dancing. Three cheers for waterproof eyeliner. She hastily smoothed her hair and swiped under her eyes for good measure.
He took his phone back and draped a heavy arm around her shoulders. “I have to have something to remember you by,” he said as he pulled her close enough that she could smell his aftershave, which she recognized from the whiffs that drifted down the hall from his bedroom. And here she was reeking of sweat and metabolized Everclear probably.
She let out a nervous laugh as she slipped her arm around his waist. “We literally live together.”
He held his phone at arm’s length and leaned his head against hers to fit both their faces in frame. “Only for another couple days. I’m leaving Monday.”
She’d known of course, but until that moment it hadn’t really hit her. Ever since she’d moved in, she’d been looking forward to having the house to herself and counting down the days until Griffin left. But now that it was imminent she found herself dreading his departure.
His head rested warmly against her temple. “Smile.”
Alice looked into the camera and did her best.
“Perfect,” he declared, presenting the photo to her for approval.
He looked predictably gorgeous, but she didn’t look half bad either. The two of them appeared cozy and happy together beaming out of the screen. “Will you send me a copy of that?” she asked.
“Of course.” Griffin let go of her, and she swayed a little. “You okay there?” he asked, lifting a concerned eyebrow.
She nodded too vigorously and the room tilted. Her hand shot out, clutching at his arm to steady herself. “Just a little dizzy. I don’t want to shock you, but I think I may be drunk.” Her voice sounded too loud, even over the music and the din of the crowd.
“How much have you had?”
“Mmmmm…” She tried to remember and quickly gave up. “No idea. A lot. But I’m fine. I can hold my liquor.” She let go of him to prove her point, teetered, and attached herself to his arm again.
His mouth tugged into a smile. “I’m sure you can.”
“The room’s just annoyingly wobbly is all.”
“The room is perfectly stationary. You’re the one who’s wobbly, tough guy.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Alice rubbed her temples, which had begun to throb in time with the music.
A frown wrinkled Griffin’s forehead. “Maybe you should call it a night.”
She glanced toward the dance floor, where some of the extras were shaking their groove things to “Shake Your Groove Thing.” The thought of more dancing made her feel queasy. “I think you may be right about that.”
“You didn’t drive yourself, did you?”
“No, I shared an Uber with Rachel. I’ll find her and see if she’s ready to go.” Still holding on to Griffin for balance, Alice rose up on her tiptoes and craned her neck, scanning the room for Rachel’s purple dress and dark hair.
“She left an hour ago with Pete.”
“She did?” Alice hadn’t even noticed. Good for Rachel. And good for Pete. She hoped they were hav
ing magnificent sex.
Griffin extracted himself from Alice’s grip and slipped a steadying arm around her waist. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
A pang of guilt pierced her alcohol buzz as he steered her toward the door. “You don’t have to leave the party on my account. I can get my own Uber.”
“Believe me, I’m ready to go home.”
She spared a moment to worry that someone would see them leaving together, then decided she didn’t care. It was far easier to just lean on Griffin and let him lead her away.
The show was over, so they weren’t coworkers anymore. Besides, everyone was too busy having their own good time to notice who she left with.
12
An unfamiliar feeling burned in Griffin’s chest as they waited for the valet to bring his car around. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.
Alice leaned against him, her cheek resting on his shoulder and her hair tickling his neck. That part he did like—intensely. He suspected the one feeling had a lot to do with the other, in a way he wasn’t prepared to examine too closely at the moment.
A gust of wind sent goose bumps shivering over her skin and he instinctively slid his hand down her arm. She sighed and nuzzled closer, clasping her hands behind his back.
The feeling in Griffin’s chest worked its way up to his throat. He swallowed and shifted Alice slightly to the side and away from his growing erection.
Oh thank god. The valet.
Griffin escorted Alice to the passenger’s side and saw her tucked inside the car before handing the valet a tip and sliding behind the wheel.
“Seat belt,” he reminded her as he fastened his own.
Alice’s head swiveled toward him, and she smiled as if she was surprised to find him sitting beside her in his own car. “Hmmm?”
“You need to put your seat belt on.”
“Right-o.” She twisted away from him and dug around beside the door looking for it. It took her an absurdly long time to locate it and stretch it across her body. Griffin let her fumble with the buckle for a few more seconds before taking it from her and clicking it into place himself.
“Thanks,” she said, placing her hand over his and squeezing warmly.
Her skirt had slid up when she got in the car, exposing an expanse of smooth, creamy thigh. It was nothing he hadn’t seen around the house plenty of times when she was wearing her favorite cutoff shorts, but somehow it felt more dangerous here in the car beneath her killer strapless dress.
Griffin fixed his eyes straight ahead and put both hands on the wheel.
Alice fiddled with the sound system for a few minutes, skipping through his playlists until she found one she liked. As a Sia song filled the car, she settled back in her seat with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to drink so much tonight, but it was just so fun and so delicious.”
Amusement curved his lips. “Don’t worry about it. You deserve to cut loose and enjoy yourself.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
She reached across the console and gave his leg an accusing poke. “You didn’t cut loose. Or enjoy yourself.”
Griffin kept his eyes on the road. “I don’t have to cut loose to have a good time.”
“But you didn’t have a good time, did you? You pretended to, but it was all an act.”
“I’m an actor. Acting’s kind of my thing.”
“Why didn’t you have a good time?” she persisted.
He shrugged. “I don’t like goodbyes.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
When he let himself glance over at her, she was staring out the window.
They passed the rest of the drive in silence. He was pretty sure Alice had fallen asleep until her head snapped up when he put the car in park. She rubbed her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
Griffin unclipped his seat belt and leaned over to help her with hers. “Let’s get you unbuckled.”
“You’re nice,” she murmured drowsily. “I didn’t think you would be, but you are.”
He snorted. “Thanks…I think.”
Her brow wrinkled with a frown. “You know what I mean. People don’t always turn out to be nice. But you did.”
He reached out to touch her face before he had a chance to think about what he was doing. Her head lolled against his palm, her lips forming a soft smile as her eyes fluttered closed. It felt so natural and she looked so lovely, he couldn’t help stroking her cheek.
No.
Alice was drunk and she didn’t know what she was doing. Griffin had some idea what it had taken for her to start trusting him, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to repay that trust by taking advantage when her inhibitions were lowered.
“Come on,” he said, retracting his hand. “Let’s get you inside.”
He got out of the car and walked around to her door, balling the hand that had touched her face into a tight fist, as if he could hold on to a piece of her that way.
When he opened the car door, she smiled up at him and extended a hand. He accepted it, resting his other hand on the back of her head to protect it as he helped her out of the car. As soon as she was on her feet she leaned against him again, as casually as if it were something she’d done a thousand times before. His heart thumped in his chest as he slipped his arm around her to guide her toward the house. For her own protection, he told himself. So she didn’t stumble and fall on the dark, uneven walk to the door.
“You smell nice,” she murmured into his chest.
“So do you.” She smelled like peaches, and very slightly of sweat, but in a not-unpleasant way.
He suspected she’d be mortified tomorrow, assuming she remembered any of this. Meanwhile, Griffin was trying to burn the memory into his brain. To memorize how it felt to hold her body close to his, since it would probably never happen again.
When he got Alice into the house, she bent to pet Taco and wound up sliding to the living room floor in a heap. Griffin left her there for a minute while he went to grab a Gatorade out of the fridge. When he came back, she was stretched out on her back like she planned to fall asleep right there with Taco licking her face.
“Up,” Griffin said, setting the Gatorade on the coffee table. “No passing out on the floor.”
“But it’s so comfy here.”
“No, it’s not.” He stooped and grabbed her hands to pull her upright. The momentum carried her all the way into his arms, where she sagged against him.
“I take it back,” she mumbled into his chest, holding on tight. “This is much comfier.”
Wincing at the inappropriateness of their current position, he hug-walked Alice over to the couch, where he carefully lowered her down. “Sit.”
“Sit,” she repeated, grinning up at him.
When he was reasonably convinced she wasn’t going to tip onto the floor again, he reached for the Gatorade. “Drink,” he ordered, twisting the lid off and handing it to her.
She scrunched her nose up. “Sit…drink. I’m not a dog, you know.”
“I know that, but you’re taking as much micromanaging as one. And you need the electrolytes, so drink up.” He sat down at the opposite end of the couch, leaving plenty of space between them.
She took a sip and made a face. “What flavor is this?”
“Blue.”
“Blue’s not a flavor, it’s a color.”
“I think it’s supposed to be raspberry.”
“Raspberries aren’t blue. You know what’s blue? Blueberries. Why is everything always blue raspberry, which doesn’t exist, instead of blueberry, which does?”
Griffin felt himself smile. “I don’t know. Maybe the guy who invented blue raspberry flavor really hated blueberries. Drink some more.”
Alice managed a few more swallows, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and set the bottle on the coffee table. “Gross.”
Griffin eyed her warily. “How’re you feeling? You’re not gonna ralph, are you?” If so, he preferred to get her into t
he bathroom now and save his upholstery. Blue raspberry left a bitch of a stain.
“Nope. The room’s a little spinny, but otherwise I’m gooooood.” Alice twisted around and lay back on the couch with her feet hanging over the armrest and her head in his lap.
Terrific. Griffin willed his body to relax, and tried to act like he wasn’t feeling anything about having Alice so close.
She reached up and ran her fingers over his chin.
Breathe. This is fine.
“I wish you weren’t leaving,” she said as she traced his jawline. “I like being your roommate.”
He caught her fingers, giving them a squeeze before placing them on her stomach. “I like being your roommate too.” He didn’t dare confess that he wanted to be more than just a roommate, even though she probably wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t risk damaging what they had.
She rolled toward him in an attempt to snuggle closer, and her head brushed against his dick.
Griffin practically sprang out from under her. “Time for you to go night-night,” he said as he levered her to her feet.
“Boo.” Her lower lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout, but she let him guide her to her bedroom.
He hadn’t been in there since her first day in the house, when it had still been cluttered with suitcases. The room smelled like Alice now. Sweet and flowery with an undertone of peaches. The room was neat as a pin, except for some discarded clothes on the floor. He tried not to look at the lacy pink bra lying in plain sight as he led her to the bed.
She sank down on the end of the mattress and flopped backward with her arms stretched overhead, which did alarming things to the top of her strapless dress. Griffin averted his eyes from the hint of black lace peeking out, and instead focused on Alice’s feet, which were clad in strappy black heels.
No way was he helping her out of her dress, but he could at least do her the favor of taking her shoes off for her before she fell asleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, lifted one of her feet into his lap, and began to unfasten the tiny buckle on the strap. The damn thing was really small, and his thick fingers had a bitch of a time. Alice’s toes were painted the same crimson as her lips and dress, and they wiggled playfully as Griffin fought with the buckle. At least she wasn’t ticklish. He remembered that much from the scene they’d done together, when he’d pretended to examine her ankle. The memory of her body, warm and small on the gurney under his, came back to him, and he pushed it back down deep.