Across the Distance

by Marie Meyer

  “You’re really going to help me with my designs while you’re here?” I asked, changing the subject. He’d promised to help me work on some designs for the Spring Showcase.

  “Victoria told me all of her secrets before I left.” Griffin tapped his head with his finger.

  “Well, shit, too bad I’m not designing a line of lingerie. And how did you get Vicky to share her secrets?” I asked, grinning.

  He winked and stood up, putting on his coat. “You probably don’t want to know.”

  I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of my chair, shaking my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He reached over and helped me with my coat. “Damn right I am.”

  * * *

  Griffin and I sat cross-legged on the floor with a couple of pizza boxes between us. “This is the best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever had,” I said, pulling off a bite of pizza with my front teeth. Griffin finished off his beer and nodded in agreement. “Although last year’s dinner was pretty entertaining,” I added, as highlights of last year’s debacle flashed through my mind. “Do you remember Jennifer’s temper tantrum?”

  Griffin pulled another piece of pizza from the box and laughed. “Uh, yeah. She was so pissed you invited me, she slammed a whole platter of turkey onto the table.”

  “I tried so hard to stifle my laughter when Mitchell leaned over and said, ‘Mommy, you have turkey in your hair,’ and then proceeded to pick it out.” My stomach hurt from laughing so much. I bent over, trying to compose myself.

  “Uh, Bean?” Griffin said.

  “Yeah?” I said, between fits of laughter. It only took one beer to make me goofy. I had no tolerance.

  “Your hair is in the pizza.”

  I felt Griffin moving handfuls of my hair off of our Thanksgiving dinner. Sitting up, I flung my hair back and smiled at Griffin. “Oops,” I giggled, running my hand through my hair.

  “Wait, don’t move,” Griffin said urgently. His eyes widened.

  I froze with my hand on top of my head. “What?”

  He leaned over the pizza box and moved very slowly toward me. Is it me, or did it just get really hot in here? Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling very silly anymore. My heart pounded in my ears. I clamped down on the urge to close the distance between us and kiss him. Don’t do it…don’t do it…an insufferable voice chanted in my head. With all my energy swallowed up by restraint, my hand dropped to my side, and Sarah’s voice echoed in my head. I can only imagine what it’s like when you two are in the same room.

  “Hold very, very still,” he whispered, looking me right in the eyes.

  His eyes were too intense…I couldn’t hold them. I glanced at his mouth, just a few inches from mine. What was he doing? He’d already told me he didn’t want this.

  I remained stone-still as his hand smoothed down the top of my head. His fingertips grazed over the sensitive skin just behind and below my ear. “There,” he breathed.

  What?

  He pulled away, holding something in his hand. “Pepperoni,” he said. Between his thumb and forefinger, he held a slice of pepperoni. “You had a little…” He pointed the piece of meat at my ear. “Behind your—”

  “Ugh!” I screamed. “Griffin Daniels!” I picked up an empty paper plate and smacked him repeatedly on the shoulder. “What the hell!”

  His deep, booming laugh filled my room and I couldn’t help but laugh too. “I did not have that behind my ear,” I scolded.

  He put his hands up in defense. “Hey, you’re the one who decided to put your head in the pie. I was just looking out for you.” His well-defined cheekbones pulled up in a sinful smirk.

  I shook my head and pursed my lips with chagrin. He thought he was so funny. “You just wait, Daniels,” I warned, pointing a finger in his direction.

  “Bring it on, Jillibean,” he taunted. The smile disappeared and was replaced with a different emotion. For just a second, I thought I saw passion darkening his face, practically begging me to cross the line again. It may have been the beer clouding my vision, but then again, I’d only had just one.

  And then it was gone. He sat back, took a drink of his beer, and smiled at me. “So, what is this Spring Showcase thing that has you doubting your mad skills?” he asked.

  What the hell was going on? I needed another drink. And some distance from him. I got up and went to the mini-fridge to get another beer and to clear my head. Pulling open the fridge, I started explaining my task for the Spring Showcase. “Every year, the apparel design department hosts a student-led runway show. All fashion majors must design an original, themed collection to be presented at the show. Most of my classmates have already sketched their designs and have begun to put them together.” I turned around and took a long pull on my beer.

  “How far are you?” he asked. He stretched his long legs out and sat back against my bed. I chuckled at how ridiculous his massive black boots looked against the backdrop of Sarah’s girly pink shag carpet.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “You,” I replied bluntly, pointing my beer bottle at him.

  He pointed at me. “I’m cutting you off. I forgot how wacky you get when you drink.” He rested his head against the mattress.

  “I do not get wacky.” I stuck my tongue out at him in defiance.

  “I rest my case,” he chuckled. “How far have you gotten on your Showcase stuff?” he asked again.

  I shook my head. “Not very.”

  “When is the show?”

  I sat back down on the carpet, pushing his ginormous feet out of the way. “Not until May, but we’re required to have a minimum of five different pieces, so it takes a while to sketch the ideas and turn them into wearable clothes.”

  “Well, let’s get on it, then.” He lifted his head and clapped his hands together. “You said the collection has to be themed? What does that mean?”

  I pulled at the label on the bottle while I regurgitated parts of Professor Vine’s syllabus. “All the pieces must be different, yet similar enough to tell a story. There has to be something that ties all the pieces together.”

  Griffin pulled his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees. “Get your stuff. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “Really, Griffin, you don’t have to do this.” I sighed, set my beer down, and collapsed onto my back. Shielding my eyes from the light, I threw my arm over my face. “I’m sure an up-and-coming rock star has better things to do with his time.”

  He nudged my side with his boot, forcing me to look at him. “Seriously, Jillian, go get your shit. I don’t know one thing about designing clothes, but I can certainly watch you do it. Get up.” Griffin held out his hand and I took hold. In one swift motion, he pulled me up so we sat face to face. “Where’s your stuff?” he asked.

  I nodded my head in the direction of my desk. “On the floor over there.”

  “Well, go get it.” He tapped the tip of my nose lightly with his finger.

  Begrudgingly, I got up, trudged over to my desk, leaned down beside it, and pulled two large duffle bags and my book bag from the floor. “I’ve got dozens of different fabrics and embellishments in these two bags,” I said, holding them up.

  “Embellishments?” Griffin’s eyebrow pulled up. “What the hell is an embellishment?”

  A small smile spread across my face as I tossed my bags into the center of the room. I dragged my book bag behind me as I plopped down next to the duffle bags. “I have my sketchbooks in here,” I said, setting it on my lap.

  “Do me a favor,” he said, catching my eye. “Never mention this to the guys.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” I sealed my lips, pretended to lock them up, and pantomimed tossing a key over my shoulder.

  Griffin pulled the purple duffle to him and unzipped it. He turned it upside down and emptied the contents onto the floor. Ribbons, beads, appliqués, yarn, patches, sequins, and countless other adornments fell into a pile between us. Griffin ran his hand through the mess and looked a
t me quizzically.

  “What?” I asked, unzipping the other duffle bag full of fabric swatches. “You wanted to know what embellishments were…Well, there you go.” I grabbed a fistful of beads and playfully tossed them at his head. His arms went up and shielded his face from the bead attack.

  “I think I’m going to need another beer for this.” He reached over and pulled one from the mini-fridge.

  We stared at the small, sparkly hill in the center of my room. “Any ideas?” he asked, twisting the cap off his beer.

  “None. I’m telling you, the second I got here, every ounce of my artistic ability disappeared.”

  “Fuck that.” He took a drink and reached backward to set his beer on my desk. “Come on, there’s got to be something in here you can use.” Griffin pieced through the pile. Within seconds, he pulled out a circular lace appliqué and some tassels. “Here, what about this?” He placed the appliqué on his head and batted his eyelashes. A swell of laughter pushed its way from my core and through my lips.

  “Or this,” he continued, holding up each tassel to his chest, twirling them around suggestively.

  “Stop…stop,” I cried, punching his shoulder, laughing. His strong hands lightly pushed me backward and I fell on my back, sighing. Griffin tossed the tassels back onto the pile and sat up on his knees, smiling at me.

  I laughed again and turned my head to look at him. “If the guys could see you now,” I giggled.

  “Uh-uh,” he tsked, waving his index finger back and forth. He shuffled on his knees through the glittery mess between us and hovered over me. “You promised.” Griffin pressed his calloused finger to my lips and smirked. “You locked it and threw away the key.” Moving his leg over my body, he straddled me and leaned in close, pinning me to the floor with his shoulders and muscular torso. My eyes grazed the features of his face. Black waves fell onto his forehead, hanging just at his eyebrows. Something smoldered in his deep-set brown eyes, and I feared I would combust. My fingers itched to brush against his stubbled jawline. I bit my lip hard to keep from screwing up our friendship.

  Griffin slid his hands down my arms, stopping when he held my sides in his firm grasp. His eyes blazed with an intensity I didn’t understand, and I couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe anymore. Staring at me, his shoulders moved up and down in a rapid, steady manner. Then, ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth pulled up, and his fingers started to wiggle at my sides. He tickled me mercilessly while I laughed and writhed beneath him. “You promised,” he said, his voice barely a whisper at my ear.

  “Okay! Okay!” I squealed, trying to wiggle out from under him. “I give!” I giggled.

  Just when I thought I would pass out from laughing so hard, the door shot open. Like we’d been caught doing something inappropriate, Griffin instantly sat up and pulled me up with him.

  Sarah stood in the doorway, shock written on her face. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she stuttered.

  “Sarah, no…it’s fine,” I said in between heavy breaths.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Griffin added, also out of breath. “Hi, I’m Griffin.” He reached around me, offering Sarah his hand.

  Sarah stepped closer and took his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Griffin. I’ve heard so much about you.” Sarah looked from Griffin to me and smiled.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked. “Aren’t you staying at Brandon’s brother’s house?” I had a difficult time looking her in the eye. I knew what she was thinking…only because I’d been thinking the same thing most of the night.

  Sarah stepped over the pile of crap on the floor and looked up at Griffin, who was standing in front of her dresser. “Excuse me.” She smiled.

  “Oh, sorry.” Griffin took one giant step and went to sit on my bed, running his hand through his hair.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” she said, pulling open one of her dresser drawers. “I just forgot…something.” She looked at me from over her shoulder and smirked.

  I cleared my throat. “How was your Thanksgiving?” I asked, trying to ease the awkward tension in the room.

  She claimed her forgotten item and stood up, pushing the drawer shut with her foot. “Good,” she drawled. “But, apparently, the party is here tonight.” Her eyes scanned the mess on the floor and then the two of us.

  “Griffin was just—”

  “Helping Jillian find her muse,” he interrupted.

  “I can see that,” she intoned, giving me a dubious stare. “Well, Brandon’s waiting in the car,” she said, walking to the door. “Good luck finding your muse,” she giggled.

  “Good night, Sarah,” I groaned. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I pushed her toward the door, hoping she’d give up on the innuendos.

  “Good night. Nice to meet you, Griffin,” she called over my shoulder.

  “You too, Sarah,” Griffin called from the bed.

  I shut the door and turned around. “Well,” I sighed. “That was weird.”

  Griffin nodded, running his hand through his already messy hair. “Yeah.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, still fussing with his hair. A telltale sign that Griffin felt the awkward strain between us, too. “Sooo,” he drawled.

  Ugh. There was no way Sarah would let this go. I’d have to have some kind of explanation when she returned. But what? He’d been flirty all night. Why?

  What is happening between us?

  I stared at him, desperate to understand.

  “Back to work?” he asked, averting his eyes.

  No! Not back to work! What the hell is going on, Griffin! I wanted to yell. You’re confusing the shit out of me!

  Instead, I walked over to the bed and fell face down behind him. “It’s late and my head feels fuzzy. I need to go to bed.” Maybe sleep would bring the answers I needed.

  Griffin pushed me closer to the wall. “Scoot over.” He kicked his boots off and lay down too.

  I tried to relax beside him, regulating my breathing, burying the feelings drudged up by the odd foreplay earlier. He came here to help you…to be supportive. Nothing more, nothing less. I sighed. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

  Griffin stretched his arm over me and pulled me to his side. I turned my head to look at him, using his shoulder as a pillow.

  With his other hand, he smoothed my hair away from my face. “Jillibean, I will always be here for you,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. He kissed my forehead and my eyes slid closed.

  Hmm…what would those lips feel like moving down my neck…over my breasts…my stomach…I shivered and my eyes sprang open. Not going there, Jillian.

  He tensed. “Cold?” He rolled over, squashing me beneath him.

  Taking advantage of the situation, I inhaled. Bad idea. Oh, god, he smells good. Not helping, Griffin.

  Falling back beside me, he drew a blanket over us, taking care to tuck me in. “There. Better?”

  Yes…no…

  “Hmm…” I settled in next to him like I’d done a million times before. But it was difficult to keep my thoughts friendly, especially with his muscled body pressed so close to mine. The safety of his arms had always helped me breathe a little easier. Now, they stole my breath away.

  Chapter Twelve

  On Friday, Griffin and I spent most of the day Christmas shopping, but sadly the day passed too quickly and Saturday morning arrived like an unwelcome house guest.

  Feeling the cold absence of Griffin’s warmth beside me, I threw the pillow off my head and sat up. He was kneeling on the floor, stuffing his clothes into a small bag.

  I frowned.

  I propped my head on my elbow like a kickstand and watched him roll his clothes into tight cylindrical noodles. “You know what I’d love to have right now?” I said.

  Now aware that I’d woken up, he looked at me and smiled. “What’s that?”

  “A bright blue police box that can transport me back to Tuesday night,” I sighed.

  Griffin left the last of his belong
ings on the floor and stood up. Walking over to the bed, he pushed me over and flopped down next to me. I rolled onto my side, sandwiched between the wall and Griffin, and buried my hands under the pillow. He rolled onto his side too, so our faces were only a few inches apart. The corner of his mouth pulled up, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. He smoothed my hair away from my face. “All you’ve ever talked about was getting the hell out of Jennifer’s house and going to design school. But…” he said, burrowing his hands under the pillow, too. His fingers curved over my hands, holding them tightly. “Now you’re sad all the time. Is this still what you want?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know what I wanted. But I did know that I hated being away from him. He was the one part of my past I wasn’t willing to run away from. “I feel like a failure here. Everything feels…forced.” My words fell flat. “Except for these last few days.” My eyes searched his face, but I couldn’t keep looking at him if I wanted to get through another good-bye.

  I averted my gaze and concentrated on the barely visible, slanted dark lines of the tattoo circling his bicep. A deep-seeded need to touch him washed over me, and without any hesitation, I pulled one of my hands free of the pillow. I brushed his shirtsleeve up, revealing the masculine cursive script, winding around his arm. I remembered when he’d gotten it. Five years ago…right after my accident. I’d seen it a million times since then, but now, for some inexplicable reason, the ink was like a magnet, and my fingers couldn’t escape its pull. I lightly traced the curved lines, flowing from one letter to the next. At my touch, I felt Griffin shudder infinitesimally.

  I stopped tracing for a moment and reached for the blanket, sealing us into a fleece cocoon.

  “Can I tell you something?” he said in a low and gravelly voice.

  Beneath the covers, I continued brushing my finger along his arm, loving the feel of his warm, smooth skin stretched over his taut bicep. I looked into his dark eyes, and my heart fluttered. Why did his eyes hold so much heat? They consumed me. When it came to Griffin, my willpower was burning away fast. With each new day, I wanted him more and more. “What?” I asked.