It’s so put together.My apartment with Jake in Chicago wasn’t half this nice, and I’d thought it was well-done.I wander over to the bookshelves where a huge number of trophies and medals are on display.A jersey boasting the name KEEGAN hangs inside a glass case on the wall.There are banners, awards, a whole lifetime of achievements for a man who’s only recently crossed thirty.
Griffin is the total package.He’s handsome, strong, successful, well-off.I’m so proud of him.My attention moves to a framed photo propped on the credenza, which looks to be an old photo of the entire Keegan family, including his father.Based on Griffin’s age in the photo, it was likely right before his father passed away.I’m lost in my feels looking at the moment frozen in time when the front door swings open.
“Morning, Casey.”
Griffin’s smooth bass settles into me like warm honey.I spin on my heels, feeling a bit like I’ve been caught.Griffin is carrying tons of bags and heading for the kitchen.
“Morning, Griff.Do you need help?”
He shakes his head, depositing about ten bags on the kitchen island.“I’m good.When did you get up?”
I drift his way, eager to help or repay his niceness somehow.“Less than a half hour ago.It was so sweet of you to leave the note and the water.Thank you.”
He props his hands on the kitchen island, sending me a sly grin that threatens to impregnate me on the spot.“It’s no problem.You needed some help last night, and I’ve got this house to myself.”
I latch on to this information as potential evidence that he’s single.Not that it matters, of course—I don’t expect Griffin Keegan to have even an inkling of interest in his old friend from Bayshore High.Not when he’s surrounded by athletes and fit women and probably oodles of cheerleaders, even though I’m not entirely sure if it’s safe for bouncing women with pom-poms on the ice.
“Well, thank you again.”I reach for the nearest bag.“Let me help you put all this away.”
“You don’t have to.”He winks at me as he pulls open the fridge and begins unloading orange juice, protein shakes, and more.“I went to pick up some stuff for breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
“I am.”I pull out a package of bacon that weighs five pounds.“Dang, is this just for this morning?”
He laughs as I hand it over.“I eat a lot.This will last me two days, if I’m lucky.”
“My god.Big man.”I hand over a carton of eggs, followed by another, and then another.I at least feel useful, which is a relief.“So, uh, what happened before we came back here last night?My memory is a little fuzzy.The last thing I really remember is trying to go play pool.”
“We did play pool.And you were spectacularly bad at it.”He laughs at the memory, storing a few cans of beans in the cupboard.“The cue ball bounced off the table at one point and rolled across the entire bar.”
“That’s a normal thing for me, it wasn’t because I was drunk,” I clarify.“I just suck at pool.”
“During pool you kept getting distracted with the book recommendations.”He laughs, looking over at me.“You don’t remember that?You told us all to think of something and you’d recommend a book based on the vibes.And after that, Julie wanted to get another round, but you were fading.You didn’t want more to drink but they wanted to keep partying.So I offered to bring you here to sleep it off since you said you were pre-embarrassed about your parents seeing you this drunk off strawberry cocktails.”
“Also sounds like something I would say,” I confirm.“The multiple stages of embarrassment are well documented in my life.As well as the relentless book recommendations.”
“You assured me probably ten times that you were not going to drink and drive because you put your car in a safe place,” Griffin adds.
“I’m extremely responsible.”
He grins as he reaches for a sauté pan and begins prepping breakfast.“And then we drove back here, and you passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow.”
I nod, watching as he cracks eggs into the pan.“Was I able to walk on my own or…”
“Yeah.With some help.”
Wasn’t exactly the Casey-over-the-shoulder that I was hoping for, but all-in-all, it doesn’t sound too bad.“Great.Well, I’d just like you to know that I don’t drink that often, and I almost never mix liquor with wine.Just in case you think I’m some sort of useless lush.”
His brows draw together as he shakes his head.“I’d never think that, Case.”
His words linger in the air, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or regretful.It feels like a major slip-up to get that drunk in front of friends I haven’t seen in a long time.Especially here in Bayshore, where my entire childhood was spent being the fuck-up.
But Griffin’s looking at me like I’m not a hungover piece of trash.And for a moment, the noise in my head stops.
“What can I do to help?”I ask, eyeing the cast-iron pan with bacon and the scrambled eggs he’s turning over.“I know, I’ll set the table.”
I get to work before he can protest, hunting down his plates and silverware.I set the small table near the bay windows overlooking the postage stamp backyard with a chain link fence butting up against the backyard of a house the next street over.It’s so cute here, and I know I just accidentally spent the night but being in Griffin’s space feels so natural.
He serves up breakfast and we dig into the steaming, fluffy eggs and crunchy bacon.I’m in awe of how much Griffin eats—his plate literally has three times the food that mine does—but as he explains his macros and caloric needs as a professional athlete, I begin to understand.
