Page 140 of Love Felt Like This

I laugh. “Yeah, well…”

“Well?” he coaxes.

I let out an uneven exhale.

“Well…” The word fades on my tongue.

Our eyes dance over each other’s. I suddenly realize just how close we’ve been standing, crowded together around the phone like it’s a campfire. I waver backward, uneven on my feet, wobbling at the knees at the way he’s towering over me. My shoulders meet the wall.

He’s looking down at me through hooded eyes, coasting over my cheeks, lips, and down to my neck. I see his Adam’s apple bob.

Is he nervous?

The last few years Beau and I were together, he never seemed nervous around me. He had that confident nonchalance, that type of demeanor someone gets when they know they won’t lose you. Like it doesn’t matter what they say.

Griffin isn’t Beau.

I open my mouth to say that. I don’t know what it will mean, but Griffin needs to know he’s unique. He’s nothing like Beau.

What leaves my lips instead is very different.

“After the awards…you said you know what you like.” I whisper it, like a secret I’ve kept to myself this whole time.

Griffin leans closer. Strands of his thick hair fall from behind his ear, shrouding us in his messy brown mane, hidden away from the rest of the diner.

“Yes, I did,” he murmurs. It’s low, as much of a whisper as he can get, but with a hard edge, like a finger tracing over a sharp blade. Gentle but intentional. Careful.

“What did you mean?” I ask.

He lets out a wistful sigh. It drips over me, coating my shoulders and weighing them down. My stomach clenches as his eyes land on my mouth.

“You know what I meant, B.”

My lips part in disbelief, at the honesty behind it all. But Griffin’s always been honest with me, to the point of bluntness. That’s just who he is.

My back arches as my heart pounds through my chest, like it’s reaching for him. He lets out a low hum, deep in his throat.

I know what I like.

And Griffin might like me.

“Griffin?”

The diner chaos rushes in again. For a moment, it felt like Griffin and I were in our own world, but now the jukebox blares in my ears. Boisterous laughter cuts the silence. Forks clanking on plates. Coffee mugs thumping on tables.

Griffin leans away, pushing back his hair with a palm. Is it shaking?

Standing behind him is Uncle Greg.

I smooth out my clammy palms onto my skirt. “Hey.”

“Sorry,” Greg huffs out a laugh. “Ava is…” He throws a thumb over his shoulder.

Ava is climbing onto the table.

Griffin dips his chin down with a low grunt and rushes over without another word. The heat of him is all I’m left with. That and a curious smirk from Greg. He takes his forefinger and thumb and zips both across his mouth.

“Oh, go feed Daisy’s chickens or something,” I say, pushing past him with my cheeks burning and my mind racing.