by Nina Lincoln
What’s happening? Griffin Hathaway, my archnemesis and the jerk who has insisted for years he doesn’t want me, is holding my ass.
“Yo, Griff,” Max calls out, stepping up to the door.
Griffin drops his arms and steps away so quickly that I wobble in place as Max looks us over suspiciously before his brows slam over his eyes and he glares at Griffin with a searing expression.
Ignoring the surge of heat still moving through me and the fucking blush painting my cheeks, I move away as casually as possible and wrap a towel around my heated skin. I’m reeling under Griffin’s caress but also curious about Max’s reaction.
Is he mad at me in general? Or upset because of Griffin’s actions? Could my brother actually be showing concern over me?
“What do you need, bro?” Griffin asks, stepping around Max as I follow and head straight to the bathroom, closing myself in and leaning against the door.
Just his touch lit a fire in me, and I’m both exhilarated and confused by it.
Further, Griffin was sure glad to see me for all his protestations about not fucking me. But what does it all mean?
∞∞∞
“Okay, first question.” Griffin’s deep rumble cascades through my veins deepening the ache already formed in the wake of his actions earlier, but he’s avoiding my gaze.
Okay, I guess we’re going to pretend whatever just happened didn’t. Although I’m disappointed, I’m not surprised, and it’s probably for the best. Griffin is like an ice cube, refreshing at first until the fucking cold meets your tongue and you get brain freeze.
We’re sitting at the dining table, with Max nowhere in sight, and shifting uncomfortably, I wait for the question, wishing myself anywhere but here. How can I possibly bare my soul to the one person who could genuinely hurt me if he wanted to? I can’t. I just…can’t.
Every part of me wants to flee, and only my stubborn pride keeps me glued to the seat as I wait for it. Because nothing but ugliness writhes beneath the surface, and I’m so very tired of holding it in.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Seriously?” Grabbing the list of questions from his hand, I confirm it is his first question, but why?
“Yes,” he says, waiting expectantly with pen poised in hand.
With a dubious look, I rub my hands down my face in exasperation. “You know my favorite color.”
“No, I don’t.” His face is so closed off I feel like I’m speaking to a statue.
What’s going on in that brain of his?
“You…don’t?”
Okay, twist the dagger a little deeper—dick. He’s known my favorite color since he sent me yellow roses in the seventh grade while I was home recuperating from appendicitis.
Fine, if he’s going to be a jerk, I might as well fuck with him.
“Blue,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.
When he looks at me impatiently, his eyes narrowed, I shrug. “What? That’s my favorite color.”
His nostrils flare as he scribbles impatiently on his paper. “Fine. Your favorite flower?”
Smiling with all my teeth, I say, “Iris.”
He glowers at me but doesn’t comment as he runs down a list of the most mundane shit possible, and I’m just starting to relax, thinking this isn’t going to be so bad when he hits me with a zinger.
“Favorite memory?” He looks up at me with a blank stare.
And all of a sudden, I’m tumbling down a rabbit hole, the remembrance both sweet and sour.
It was my fourteenth birthday, just before the end of everything and the beginning of hell. Mom planned a surprise party, and when we entered the backyard after a day at the movies, there stood all my friends with Griff at the front.
He was all I could see, and I smiled so wide my face hurt when he sang happy birthday along with everyone else, staring straight into my eyes.
My heart throbbed so brutally at his smile that I had to turn away to catch my breath. No surprise because Griffin held my heart at that point.
The evening was terrific, and I basked in the glow of being celebrated, but the best part was when Griffin pulled me aside and handed me a small box with a shiny yellow bow. Charmed by his nervousness as he watched me open it, I gasped when I saw what was inside.
“It was my grandmother’s. The only yellow stone I could find. Do you like it?”
Beaming at him, I picked up the delicate necklace and sighed, “It’s beautiful, Griff.”
His eyes lit up with delight, and I said shakily, my stomach wobbling with an emotion I couldn’t define, “Put it on me?”
With a smile, he leaned forward, his cheek brushing mine, and I held my breath, my skin tingling where he touched my neck as he fastened the tiny clasp.
Glancing down, I held the heart-shaped charm in my hand, blazing with a large yellow gem that sparkled in the light, and with my heart singing in my chest, I smiled.
“You remind me of her—my gram. She was always happy, always smiling and free…” he said softly.
“Oh,” I breathed, caught in his warm stare as he searched my expression intently before pressing his lips gently to mine.
His lips were soft and warm as they grazed me delicately, and instinctively I opened to him as he swept his tongue inside. Instantly, heat shot through my veins, and my pulse stuttered at this, my first kiss.
It was amazing and beautiful and cut short when my mom called out for me, and we broke apart abruptly.
Glancing over my shoulder, I chuckled with embarrassment as Griff smiled at me with blazing eyes and kissed my forehead gently. “You better go back.”
Nodding shyly, I stared into his reflection, attempting to commit to memory every look and word. “What about you?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” He tipped his head toward Max as he came down the hill.
“Okay,” I murmured, walking away, feeling so light that I could float away.
“Well?” Griffin says, breaking into my reverie as he looks me over with a curious intensity.
Raising my gaze to him, I clear my throat against the lump that’s formed. “My fourteenth birthday.”
If my heart weren’t pounding so hard, I fear I might puke, I’d find the way his eyes go painfully wide amusing, but then he stands abruptly and averts his face. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
Whipping back around, his eyes bore into mine and I have to resist the urge to look away from the intensity as he rasps, “I’ve got to go. We can work on this more later.”
Nodding silently, I wipe away a tear after he’s gone, willing my past back in the box where I can lock it away with a key.
Chapter Six
Happily, ever after…what a crock of shit.
The day I met Griffin was monumental in more ways than one. Unfortunately, it was the seminal moment when I became a woman, as my mom put it, with tears in her eyes no less as she walked me through how to use feminine products with a soft look on her face.
Meanwhile, I was mortified and in pain, because as I would learn over the years, period cramps are no joke. At any rate, by the time I made it to school—late—I was flustered, embarrassed, and annoyed by life in general. I mean, why should a girl have to suffer such an indignity?
When I walked into class, I could swear everyone in there knew why I was late, as though something about me was so different it would be easy to glean, and awkwardly I sat down amongst my peers who I had known since grammar school with new eyes.
Was Stacy Ford a woman now, too? Did she hate it as severely as I did? Ugh.
As the new kid, Griffin caught my eye immediately, and I remember looking over his dark head of silky hair curiously as he concentrated on the worksheet Mr. Bradshaw liked to pawn off on us when he was in a sluggish mood. To be honest, I kind of thought he might be hungover on those days, but I had no way of confirming beyond his bloodshot eyes and lackadaisical attitude.
Just as I was about to look away, Griffin glanced up, and the pre
ttiest eyes I had ever seen on a boy met mine, with swirls of green and gold, bronze and chocolate. Heck, even his eyelashes were long and lush. He looked me over with much the same curiosity I did him and smiled, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest before taking off in a gallop.
I think that was the beginning of my obsession—one smile and I was a goner. I just wish whatever I saw in his eyes that day was still there now because the differences are marked, and fuck if I don’t miss my best friend.
Walking down the path, I glance around warily but keep going. I need to clear my head. I need something because my skin is crawling, and my throat hurts. I woke from a horrible dream, and it lingers over me like a dark cloud.
My team of counselors in the hospital, in their infinite wisdom, encouraged me to use exercise as a way to process shit, and I’m giving it my best shot, but I fucking hate it. I never much enjoyed exercising beyond swimming before, so this isn’t exactly a treat.
Slumping down on a bench near the edge of campus, I watch absently as students wander by, laughing with their friends, sipping on drinks, carousing around as people their age, my age, should.
Ignoring the pulse of jealousy, I turn my gaze away because I know that could be me, but I can’t push back the darkness. It lingers at the corners of my vision, pushing and pulling me between its cruel grasp, and just when I think I’ve caught the light, it fades away as the darkness rushes in once more.
Not to mention the slight pull of panic that lives inside of me every time I leave the sanctuary of my room.
“Hey.”
Startled, I glance up and find Miranda standing over me with a smile.
“Hey,” I say warily. I haven’t spoken to her since Griff shared with the entirety of her sorority that I tried to kill myself over a guy. I mean, how do you overcome that?
“You want to go get a coffee?”
Looking her over, I can’t help but ask, “Why?”
Cocking her head to the side, she laughs. “Why not?”
Since I was just lamenting the fact that I’m not normal, I give in and follow her along the path to the small coffee shop in the student union, weaving through students as the freshly ground smell of coffee hits my nose. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I do enjoy the aromas.
“So, how’s everything? I haven’t seen Griffin in a few days,” Miranda starts as we grab our drinks and sit down at a small bistro table overlooking the quad under a beautiful old tree that blocks the worst of the blazing sun.
Aha. So, this is about Griffin. I should have known.
“He’s fine,” I say sourly.
“Oh, okay. Is there, um, something going on between you two?”
“Huh? No,” I mutter, looking away with a flush. Fuck me. How awkward. Can she sense my not-so-hidden feelings? Am I that fucking obvious?
“Look, it’s clear you like him. I don’t want to step on your toes…” Her mouth curves in a pretty smile, but I see the curiosity behind her eyes.
Okay, that confirms that. Shit.
Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I see only sincerity on her face, but it’s really fucking awkward to be confronted about my wretched feelings by someone that Griffin stuck his dick inside.
Into the awkward silence, she flushes and looks away. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Look, I’ve known Griffin since we were twelve. He’s like family to me,” I say carefully.
“Is that why he’s so protective of you?” she asks dryly.
“Protective, ha!” I can’t help my amused laugh, but it sounds more bitter than happy.
“Halsey, surely you can see how he is around you?”
“You mean being a jerk? Yeah, I noticed.”
“No, but it’s like he’s always aware when you’re around. Although he does act particularly cruel with you. Which is weird because he’s such a sweetheart,” she muses.
And my traitorous fucking heart clenches in my chest. Is he a sweetheart? I wouldn’t fucking know.
“Anyway, I guess I sensed something between you, and I…like him, but I don’t want to waste my time with someone who’s caught up in another girl.”
For half a second, I consider lying just to ensure I won’t have to endure watching them together, but unfortunately for her, there are plenty of Miranda’s out there. Based on Griffin’s whore behavior, I’m guessing that she’s not long for this relationship anyway.
Eyeing her with a glimmer of pity, I say, “Trust me, Griffin feels nothing for me. He never has.”
And after, as I walk home grimly and fight the ever-present panic pushing at my lungs, I wonder, is Griffin watching me when I’m in his presence?
Ha! More like waiting for me to fall so he can crush me.
∞∞∞
The next few days pass slowly, and Griffin largely ignores me to my relief because he seems to have put aside our project for now. On Saturday, I laze the morning away, sleeping because I know no one will be home to lecture me.
Griffin should be gearing up for his game today, and Max usually attends to cheer on his friend, which is why I sit up curiously when I hear his voice emerge through the front door.
Why isn’t he at the game? I know it’s on because I couldn’t keep myself from checking the schedule, even if I refuse to watch the damn thing.
I used to go to all his games, and back then he insisted I was his good-luck charm, always looking for me in the stands once they emerged on the field. The last time I went, I was miserable, and he never once glanced my way.
Sliding on a pair of shorts, I pull my ratty hair into a ponytail and wipe the sleep from my eyes, erasing any evidence of my pain, because instead of asking if I’m okay, Max will just get angry.
I don’t understand his extreme emotions recently because Max has always been relatively even-keeled. Is he really that angry about my issues? Did I really impede his life that much?
I’ll admit that his harsh treatment and lack of empathy hurt my feelings, but more than that, it leaves me unsettled because I feel like something is going on, and once again, I’m on the outside looking in.
After the voices pass my door, I open it cautiously and peek out, spying Max with a tall guy I’ve never seen before. With his back to me, all I can see are the baggy jeans, old T-shirt, and long dark hair swinging at his collar before they’re out of sight.
Huh, I wonder who Max’s new friend is? And why isn’t he at the game?
Shrugging it off because I’ll probably never know the answer to the latter and the former isn’t all that important to me, I go back to my room but set about studying this time, the thought of being caught out sleeping abhorrent in the face of Max’s cruelty. Nope, I have to slog through because guilt is a motherfucking monkey on my back.
A short while later, as I’m closing up my Econ 101 work, something bumps against the wall in Griffin’s room, loud enough that it makes me flinch. Glancing around, I strain to hear anything more and start to relax when it’s silent again, only to jump clean out of my skin when Max turns his music on, and it blares loudly, breaking the peaceful silence.
The obnoxious thump, thump, thump invades the space, and with a sigh, I stare at the ceiling. Why, god? Why?
I’m definitely not going to get any work done now, so I close everything up and grab my shoes. Maybe now would be a good time for that exercise I’m supposed to enjoy.
I’m standing at the threshold of the front door, just turning back to grab my keys from the dish by the door, when I meet Max’s new friend, and as soon as I make eye contact, I wish I hadn’t.
“Well, hello,” he says, but his hard blue eyes do not have a hint of humanity and I shift where I stand frozen.
“Um, hey.”
He’s older, almost too old to be a college student, with slicked-back dark hair and an expression that sends a sliver of caution down my spine.
I don’t know how to explain it so much as the dude makes every hair on my body stand on end in the perennia
l instinct to flee when there’s danger. Creepy rolls off him like bad cologne.
Thankfully, Max comes up behind him, and I relax marginally, but I’m a little confused as to where Max found a friend such as this. The two couldn’t be more opposite, with Max all preppy in a polo shirt and jeans and this dude, well, not…
“Who’s this?” the guy rumbles as I look over at Max with confusion.
Something is off about him as he gazes at me wide-eyed, his face flushed and his hair in disarray, but it’s the tic below his right eye that I’m drawn to as he looks right through me with a glassy stare.
I smile politely and go to pull the door closed, hoping to extricate myself from this situation, only to scowl when Max pulls it back, his blue eyes wild in his face as he smiles wide. “This is my sister.”
“The one you told me about?”
“Yeah, man,” Max says, swiping his nose with his finger.
“Mm, you’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” his friend licks his lips as he looks me over with a leer.
I’m saved from responding when Max frowns and turns away, forcing his new, skeevy-as-fuck friend to follow. This is just as well because I don’t know whether I would have told him off or run for the fucking hills.
Bewildered, I stare after them as they disappear down the hall once more, wondering what the fuck is going on with my brother and whether I should be worried about it.
Chapter Seven
Why do they call it a broken heart if it still fucking beats?
Griffin’s in a bad mood when he comes home later that day, probably because they lost to a rival team, but it doesn’t stop him from having a party, and the house fills once again with what appears to be half the school. It’s so loud, I’m not sure why the neighbors don’t call the cops, but miraculously, Griffin must have them wrapped around his finger, too.
I’m still confused by Max’s demeanor earlier and his new buddy, but since I have no one to talk to about it and there’s nothing I can do, I decide to set it aside. I mean, I have enough of my own shit rolling through my head anyway. Why borrow his?
There’s no way I will be sleeping with the racket going on outside my room, so I give in and pull on semi-decent clothes to join the party, ignoring the way my skin itches as I walk around. I don’t see either of the guys, so I help myself to a beer, figuring just one won’t hurt. Besides, I’m a freshman in college—I should be able to have a little fun, right?