His Kiss (13 page)

I let out a breath, not mad anymore.

I got it covered,
I wrote.
Have fun!

I shut my phone and then looked up and found Griffin watching me. The way his eyes looked—it was as though he’d been gazing at me a long time. It did funny things to my heart—got it all throbbing and aching. My legs were suddenly rubber, like I was going to topple over.

Griffin smiled, backing me against the car. “I got your poem.”

His voice was husky. “Well, I didn’t really
get
it.” Gently, his fingers slid through my hair, raking out a piece of popcorn. “But I liked it.”

He leaned in close. So close I could feel his warm breath on my neck. “I like
you
, Heaven.”

Ohhhh, my heart! It was going to pounce right out of my chest.

Griffin drew his face near mine. My breath caught. Though I wanted it so bad—his kiss—so bad, with all my heart—I knew there were all kinds of reasons I shouldn’t let him. But only one flashed through my brain.
It
kept
flashing—that picture of Destiny.
The one Kendra had sent.
Drunk
Destiny totally making-out with some guy. It flashed in my brain over and over, and that was enough.
More than enough.
I didn’t want some sleazy guy kissing me that would make-out with a
drunk
girl he’d never even talked to before.

I pushed Griffin away from me, hard—my heart in complete chaos. I clicked open my cell phone and shoved the picture of Destiny macking some guy in Griffin’s face.

“Is this you?”

Griffin took the phone from me and studied the picture for the briefest of moments. Then he smirked. “Does it look like me?”

I snatched my phone back and actually looked at the picture—studied it. No. It didn’t.
At all.

You couldn’t actually see the guy’s face, but it definitely wasn’t Griffin. The guy was skinny and … not Griffin.

“Oh.” My cheeks burned—
I’m a dork!
“Well … that’s good.” I stuttered a bit, then said super quick, “Well, I’ve got to go.”

I hopped into my car feeling like an idiot and I just wanted to get away so I could go home and crawl under a rock, but Griffin eyed all the cars that had parked behind me in the driveway.

“It’s kind of a tight get-away,” he said through my open window. “Want me to back you out?”

He was probably remembering my bumper that he’d had to fix not too long ago—probably remembered that I’d backed into a dumpster. Grrr!

“I can do it,” I muttered.

Griffin didn’t say anything, just stepped back. Then he silently watched me stress with the steering wheel, backing up a tiny nudge,
then
having to pull forward and start again. I had to keep doing that, tiny bit forward, tiny bit back. I wasn’t really making any progress. In fact, I was making
zero
progress.

Okay, I’m not the world’s best driver. I admit that. I don’t drive much as I don’t have my own car and hardly ever get to use Mom’s. Still, normally—I swear—I wouldn’t have had so much trouble. But I was all flustered having an audience, especially because the audience was Griffin. Griffin! I could barely
walk
straight when he was around. But drive? Apparently it was impossible.

Griffin watched me with his chin cupped in his hand, covering his mouth, most likely hiding a huge grin. Finally, he leaned in my open window. “Crank your wheel all the way.”

I started cranking.

He bit back a laugh and gave me his head-tilt. “The other way.”

Guh! My face burning, I made no comment, just shoved the steering wheel hard the other direction and cranked with all my might.

Griffin flinched his jaw and stepped back, watching me stress a bit longer, then returned to the window. “Want me to do it?”

I cocked my head totally wanting to say
yes,
only there was a part of me that didn’t want to back down. I wanted to show Griffin I could
drive
. But it seemed kind of too late for that. Plus, I could hear Destiny making groaning sounds in between her snoring. I was afraid any second she was going to barf—in Mom’s car. I needed to get home. Now.

Griffin grinned when I took forever to answer.

“Look,” his lips twitched at the corners, “it would be hard for anyone. You’re packed in here really tight.”

I sighed and scooted over. Griffin grinned but didn’t say anything. He simply slid into the driver’s seat and snaked the car out of the long, narrow driveway. He did it super easy and
quick
as though it was cake.

When we were safely out on the street, he put the car in neutral and reached for me. My heart kicked up a notch. I was so going to let him kiss me this time; I would just go with my heart and enjoy a little heaven. My entire body filled with tingles. I closed my eyes and leaned in for it. But then … Griffin didn’t kiss me. Instead, he gently brushed another piece of popcorn out of my hair.

“Good night, Heaven,” he said.

He opened the car door, and then he was gone. He went back into the party and I was left with snoring Destiny and a pounding heart.

***

All that night I thought about Griffin—about our near kiss. It had me tossing and turning and feeling all agitated. There was this one scene from the night—this perfect moment. It kept playing over and over in my head.

When Griffin brought his mouth down to my ear. “I didn’t really get your poem … but I liked it.”
His leaning in even closer.
“I like
you
, Heaven.”

I like you, Heaven.

I like you, Heaven.

I like you, Heaven.

Oh! There was no way I could sleep, never again.

I got out of bed and started writing in my ratty old song-journal. I wrote about Griffinan>
!—
I kept thinking about that scene. Of course he hadn’t
gotten
my poem. I had made it impossible to “get.” I had done that on purpose. But he had liked it. He liked
me
!

The thought had me all tingly.
For a moment.
Until I started thinking about later—in my car.
When he didn’t even try to kiss me. He had just pulled that stupid piece of popcorn out of my hair and then … left. Went back into the party to give his
heart-stopping
, seductive pick-up lines to some other girl.
An easier girl.

Ugh!

I was such a sap.

I crawled into bed and immediately started crying. I was so screwed—liking a guy that I could never even date.

***

The next day I read Aiden’s newest text. It just said,
Ally,
are you ever going to talk to me?

When I’d been with Aiden I’d been stable, comfortable. My stomach didn’t feel all fluttery or violent or in knots all the time. It just felt … normal.

I wanted to feel that again.
I needed
to feel it. Milo was too boring and Griffin was too exciting but Aiden
?—
Aiden was just right. Only, ugh! Despite Aiden’s constant texts he seemed to be with Fiona now. Sure, I’d catch him looking at me with longing—but did that actually mean anything? I wasn’t sure. I mean
,
he hadn’t really tried to woo me back, at all. I’d kept waiting and waiting.
But no.
Nothing. He never did.
Just his stupid texts.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t have a boyfriend for a while,” Jazz said the next day when I discussed how I was contemplating getting back together with Aiden while she gushed about Conner Watts.

Deep down I knew she was probably right, I knew that. But the thing was I had this ache inside me, this need. Okay actually, in reality the need was Griffin. My heart wanted him, ached for him. But my heart was so messed up! It was stupid.

I sighed, unable to tell her that—explain to her that the
real
reason I wanted Aiden back—the real,
true
reason—was just so I could stop fantasizing about Griffin. I didn’t like fantasizing about The Griff. I hated it. It left me so unsettled, made me want to scream or cry or rip out my hair. I mean
,
it was so incredibly
pointless
to yearn for him.
Because I couldn’t have him—even if he somehow miraculously wanted me.
Which, of course, he didn’t.
Not really. It was just a game to him. Seeing how far he could stir “School Girl.” Ugh.

But if I had Aiden—if we got back together—maybe things could go back to the way they were. Maybe I could feel happy and satisfied with my life again. Like I used to feel … before Griffin’s kiss.

***

Monday morning I got another text from Aiden. It said:
Can we talk?

I thought about it a long time, then during World History I finally wrote back:
Sure.
After School?

Aiden texted back almost immediately.
Okay! Meet me outside the gym at 3:00.

Seeing the words—from Aiden—dear, sweet Aiden—almost made me cry. It was so easy. Why hadn’t I done this earlier?

We could get back together and write songs together again—have things
go
back to the way they were. Be happy and comfortable and settled.

That was totally my plan.

But then a weird thing happened. In French class, Miss Feefee (that wasn’t her real name—it was Mrs. Fergusson—but we all called her Miss Feefee), sent me and a few other students from our class to an early study hall as we had aced a test that the rest of the class needed to retake. She didn’t just let us stay in the class, though, because she needed our seats for some other students from other classes that also needed to retake the test.

So … we had to go to study hall.

But that’s not the weird thing. The weird thing was, when I got to study hall, there was Griffin. Seeing him made me turn all red and act stupid. I lunged into the nearest empty seat and grabbed a book out of my backpack and stared at it like I was totally engrossed in it—like it was the most fascinating read of my entire life. But really, I wasn’t even sure what the book was—a novel, math? I had no clue. My brain was totally gone.

All I knew was, I could feel Griffin’s eyes on me—or anyway, I
imagined
I could. For all I really knew, he didn’t even know I was in the room. That was possible. But I didn’t chance it. I didn’t look up. Not until Mrs. Harris, the study hall teacher, said in a loud, booming voice, “Griffin, Griffin, Griffin.” She said it like tsk, tsk, tsk.

I looked up, my stomach all stirring and twisting, wondering why she was saying his name. I knew she really didn’t know this, but the way she said it—all tsk, tsk, tsk—to me it was like she knew. Knew that my heart was ready to explode just because he was in the room, that all it took these days to turn me into a brainless bag of hormones was his presence.

But no, she didn’t know.

She took Griffin’s cell phone from him and studied it. Then—shock
!—
she walked across the classroom—to me! She placed his iPhone on my desk saying, “You can choose whether to delete that or not—but don’t give the phone back to ‘The Griff’ until after class.”