His Kiss (11 page)

Griffin seemed to notice—not that I was sweating (I hope) but that I didn’t jump out of his car when he put it into idle. He grinned a little. Then he set his eyes on mine, making me lose my breath. “A bunch of us are going to the river tonight—to hang out. You want to come?”

“Oh … I, uh.” I could feel my face turning red, my ears too. This moment was so surreal. I had wanted it so much—him to ask me out—I was practically seeing spots.

Still …

“I can’t.” I sighed. “I’m not really the hanging out at the river type.”

“No. I know,” Griffin said. “But … ” He shook his head. “Well, okay. If you don’t want to.”

“No! I do.”

I said it again, “I do. But I can’t, because I’m not like that—the party at the river type.” I was going to leave it at that, but then I blathered on, “But if I was, I’d so totally go with you.”

Griffin cocked an eyebrow, looking amused. “Then come.”

I shook my head, regretful, but completely resolute. I’d heard stories about the parties at the river. They were for drinking and hooking up. Two of the many, many (
many
) things I didn’t do.

“I can’t,” I said.

He smiled a little. “Okay. It’s just—” His smile grew. “That kiss—” He arched his eyebrows. “I liked it.”

I groaned. “Me too.”

I darted out of his car and up to Jazz’s house before my heart exploded with want. And before I could change my mind.

***

I started to do this “thing.” Everyday. It was like a compulsion. I
had
to do it. I had to leave something at Griffin’s locker. Usually it was a cookie or a cupcake.
Sometimes a poem.
Sometimes all three.
But always something.
And always anonymously.

I don’t know why I had to do it. I guess it was simply because I had a twisted, stupid “thing” for The Griff and I couldn’t actually do anything else about it. I mean
,
I couldn’t date him, of course. But I had all these “feelings” for him and they needed release, so—cookies.

Only one day Griffin came up to me at my locker after I had left an enchilada in a baggie for him. I made it in cooking class, and though, yeah, it was
super
messy, I had taped a plastic fork to his locker too, so he could, you know, eat it.

I’d even hid behind the corner and watched him devour it. It had been
so
satisfying seeing his adorable, surprised grin when he first came to his locker and found the enchilada and fork. It had given me this huge, dramatic tickle in my stomach.
A total rush.

I felt that same feeling now, when I shut my locker and there was Griffin, beside me. We hadn’t talked since that day in his car—almost a week and a half ago. Seeing him now, I caught my breath.

“Are you leaving me gifts?” he said.

 
“Um …” All flustered and shaking and turning red, I started messing with the combination on my locker, though I had just gotten everything out of it that I needed. “Gifts?”

I continued to mess with my lock, turning it one way, then the other, like it was giving me trouble, like I hadn’t opened it on an hourly basis since the beginning of Freshmen year. Only, the weird thing was, it
was
giving me trouble. I couldn’t remember the combination to save my life. Actually, I couldn’t even remember my own name. All that was in my brain was Griffin’s long-lashed eyes. The way they were staring at me turned my brain to goo.

“Yeah, gifts—food and poems and gummy bears.” He moved me out of the way and messed with my lock for a moment, spinning it with purpose, then—whoa—he opened my locker.

My heart spazzed—even more violently than it had been, not just because he had somehow magically known my locker combination (though, whoa!), but his big, warm “Griffin” hands had gently touched my waist as he had moved me aside. His mere touch had my knees weak and my hormones rocketing out of control.

“Wait! How’d you do that!
”
I exclaimed
,
trying to stay focused on my locker rather than his big, seductive hands. I mean
,
he
knew
my locker combination. That was pretty freaky … yet amazing.

Griffin grinned but didn’t answer. Instead he arched his eyebrows. “Are you giving me gifts?”

“No,” I lied—poorly—not looking at him. I stuck my head in my locker, like I needed to find something important in there—like the Holy Grail.

I went on lying—just as poorly. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about—poems?”

Griffin laughed softly and pulled one of my “anonymous” poems out of his pocket. It was written on a silver guitar shaped post-it note—exactly like the pad of guitar shaped post-it notes I was holding in my hands.

Grrr!

Griffin blatantly eyed the pad crumbling in my sweaty grip. He didn’t say anything, though—because well, he didn’t have to. There was the proof right in my clammy hands—I was a weird, strange, stalker girl with a weird, strange crush on him. AND I was a liar.

Grrr-rrr!

I shoved the post-its into my locker and quietly shut it. Then I turned back to Griffin. “
Maybe
I wrote you a poem or two,” I mumbled.

“You’re weird.”

Griffin smiled when he said it though, like maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. Then he leaned into me, brushing back my hair and whispered low in my ear, “I like weird.”

My heart ricocheted off my ribcage. I practically melted into a puddle right there at his feet.

Griffin pulled away from me with a lazy grin and handed me a slip of paper. “Here’s my locker combo.” His smile widened. “Put the gifts
inside
the locker. Just ‘cuz Hailey gets jealous. She’s not my girlfriend or anything—but she’s kind of … territorial. I don’t want her to hurt you or anything.”

“Oh,” I said, kind of confused. “Me either.”

He laughed at that, and then he was gone, into the crowd of student traffic and I was left trembling and woozy and still wondering,
How
did he know my locker combination?

***

How did Griffin know my locker combination? How?

The question had me uneasy, but excited at the same time. I wondered about it all through World History,
How’d he get it?

It had me thinking about that instead of taking notes for tomorrow’s test like I was supposed to be doing. But the thing was, it seemed sort of romantic—sort of. Like maybe he had been stalking me while I’d been stalking him. You know, scoping out my locker while I’d been gifting his.

The thought made me smile and feel all tingly inside, though I realized this was hopeless. I mean, The Griff and I—we could never “be.” Not a couple. Not anything.

But still, it excited me to think that Griffin had cared enough to somehow get my locker combination…. I mean, since he didn’t vandalize it or steal anything from it.

The thought had me all dreamy and excited and drawing hearts on my notes.

But then, while I was still in history class—still in a cloud, fantasizing about big, tough Griffin sweetly stalking me—I got a text from The Griff himself.

Seeing that the text was from him made me gasp and practically pass out. Okay, I admit it, it doesn’t take much to get me into
a frenzy
—especially not when it comes to anything about Griffin.
Anything
about him.
But still, this was huge.
His first time to contact me without me being right in front of his face.
I mean, he was somewhere else, but he was obviously thinking about me. How sweet.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get control of my pounding heart and the waves of
butterflies
wooshing around in my stomach.

Finally, I felt I could breathe without losing consciousness, so I peeked at Griffin’s message. This is what it said:
It was written on your folder
.

I blinked. Huh?

I had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. None. For a couple of minutes I sat scratching my head, trying to figure it out, but finally I gave up and texted back
:
?
????

Only seconds later came Griffin’s reply:
Your locker combination. It’s written on your folder
.

Wh?

I glanced at my World History folder.

Yep. There was my combo right on the front in big, block print. Duh! I face-palmed, muttering to myself. “Geez! I’m an idiot.”

I had totally forgotten that yesterday Destiny had scrawled my combination there when I let her borrow my folder full of History notes. She had quickly jotted the combo down because I had wanted her to put the folder back in my locker when she was through.

Realizing that now, I almost laughed out loud, though it was tragically sad—pathetic really. I was such a dork! Hoping Griffin was stalking me. Ha! Of course, he wasn’t. I should have totally known better. He wasn’t all pathetic and weird like me. He actually had a life.

I scribbled out the numbers, muttering to myself and feeling a sad ach in my heart—a sort of disappointment that I knew I shouldn’t feel. I mean
,
I’d known Griffin and I couldn’t get together. I knew that. So, I should have been relieved he wasn’t going to be hanging around trying to tempt me. I should have been glad.

I texted Griffin:
Oh.

After I sent it, I figured I should have probably written more. Halfway through class I added:
Thanks
.

Then I spent the rest of class wondering:
How did The Griff get my phone number?

***

So, after that—getting called-out on the locker stalking—you probably think I stopped, but no. Not me. Maybe it was more than just that I had a monster crush on Griffin. Maybe it was deeper—emotionally. I mean, ‘cause I
had
to give him treats. Had to. It was a compulsion. And it was strange.

But whatever the reason—whatever— it was just something I
had
to do. It made me feel better. Somehow.
I mean, Aiden had Fiona.
But well, I had something too.
My stupid, pathetic crush on Griffin.
So, in a way we were even.

….
Though of course not really; not even close.

Okay, it was sad.

But it helped me get through things. Instead of thinking about Aiden getting my cooking-class treats, now I’d think about Griffin getting them.
And liking them.
And wanting them.
It just made me feel … happy. I figured that was good, no matter how twisted it was, because otherwise I’d just feel sad and jealous and down about losing Aiden and having no boyfriend or prospect of one since now I kind of avoided Milo, which was sad because I had kind of led him on for a while, big time.

Now Milo seemed to still have hope we would get together. He’d “accidently” run into me between classes and hang out near my locker.
But no.
We weren’t going to get together. Griffin’s kiss had blown that plan.
Because Griffin’s kiss rocked my world.
So now I just needed it to settle back down. And I decided I should wait it out alone. Not get some other poor being involved in my topsy-turvy world full of hopeless longing and yearning. It wasn’t fair to Milo. No matter how much I dreaded being alone—boyfriend-less—I hated leading him on more.