My girl Layla was a lot of incredible things—most of them brash, brazen, loud, and wholly obnoxious. After we were gunned down in the high school gymnasium, and Griffin outed our love to our friends, I would have never guessed that she’d be the one to look for ways to be considerate of our budding relationship. But when Hunt borrowed Bonnie and stomped off for his talk with Zoe, Layla convinced Brady to join her in chilling at their house while Griffin and I took “a wet and wild ride to Pound Town.”
Even while revealing unexpected thoughtfulness, subtle she was not, and never would be.
While I’d blushed, wondering since when the fuck blushing was a regular activity for me, Griffin hadn’t. He’d taken me by the hand, led me to Clyde, and driven us to his place. He hung a Do Not Disturb sign on his bedroom door he made when he was eight, locked the handle, and drew the blinds—as if that would afford us actual privacy. But there was no preventing the superspy, pervy lie-rents from getting an earful, and possibly an eyeful too.
Abstaining from whatever wonders I’d experience with Griffin, when I’d believed I might have truly lost him, wasn’t an option.
My crew was fighting on the daily to survive the mother of all perilous shitstorms. He was one of the reasons fighting so hard was worth it. If we had an invisible audience to whatever would come next, so be it. I’d do my best to forget we weren’t as alone as we should be.
We lay sprawled on his queen bed, relaxed, as if we were still just friends. Our socked feet touched, our fingers laced together like we used to do about the time he created his door sign, when friendship truly was all that was on our minds—when Ridgemore was a safe haven, our parents were supportive, and our houses were homes.
I told him silently.
He rubbed his thumb along my hand.
I slid my head closer, until our temples dipped together.
He hummed contentedly.
He chuckled softly.
I snorted.
A laugh rumbled through me.
It wasn’t all that outrageous of a thing to say, especially when Brady and Layla practically lived for dick jokes and sex talk. But my stomach warmed. My skin became suddenly hyperaware ofhow close Griffin lay to me, the few places our bodies already touched…
I swallowed.
Atop the pillow, I turned my head toward him.
he went on.
I prodded, though I damn well understood what he was talking about. How could I not, when I’d been drooling over his body for longer than I should have?
My breathing sounded loud to my own ears, wishing for him to continue, greedy for more.
Griffin didn’t open up very often, but the rare times he did, it wasn’t like this. He was cleaving himself down the middle and exposing all his insides for me.
I’d never been so glad we had these secret telepathic abilities. His confession belonged to me and me alone. I would have set the lie-rents on fucking fire if they’d been able to eavesdrop on this conversation. Instead, I tucked his precious words away near to my heart for safekeeping, where I could revisit them later—when I’d allow myself to simmer in the feeling of how very much they meant to me, when I’d let myself squeal and giggle and celebrate how the boy I’d loved since forever had fallen in love with me too.
I asked in a whisper, unwilling to disrupt whatevermagic held us in its thrall and wanting him to explain every last thing he’d mentioned.
He rolled onto his side, wrapping his leg around my thigh and sliding me closer. He lowered his face to mine, stopping just far enough away that our vision wouldn’t blur.
