Page 20 of The Triple Play

I’m about to make an excuse to leave when he suddenly reaches a hand out, his fingers coming close but not quite touching the ends of my hair. The sleeve of his sweater rides up, showing a dusting of auburn hairs covering his forearm.

“I see you decided to grow out those bangs you once tried. I like it.”

It takes my brain several seconds to catch up and figure out what he’s talking about. When I do, there’s no containing the snort of laughter that escapes me, embarrassing as it is. I clap my hand over my mouth, mortified, but Griffin just grins.

“I had managed to forget about that. Just like you’re going to forget I ever made that sound.” When he laughs, I shove at his rock-hard chest, to no avail. He doesn’t move. “Listen, that haircut was traumatizing! All I wanted was a trim and she made me look like…like…” I trail off, captivated by the sight of Griffin’s easy, relaxed smile.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he says in between laughs, and I narrow my gaze on him.

“It was awful. I didn’t get another haircut for an entire year after that. Even now, I travel back to Vancouver and visit the same stylist to get my hair done, no matter where in the country I’m working.”

Griffin grips the back of his neck, the motion making his arm muscles pop in such a way that I have to consciously tell myself not to stare. “My sister is the same way.”

Silence falls between us again, but it’s easier now, light and not fraught with tension like when we were discussing his family. Above, the sky is growing dark, even though it’s still early.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, I’m fine.”

There’s no way I’m actually seeing heat in his stare as his gaze sweeps up and down my body. Is there? “Trust me, Liv, I know you’re more than fine. Can you just humour me and my need to see you safely through a dimly lit parking lot?”

Oh damn. His words do something to me. Something unfamiliar, but definitely not unwelcome. And he’s right, dusk is falling and there are a few lampposts with burned-out bulbs.

“Alright, you can walk me to my car,” I acquiesce, tilting my head in the general direction. We start walking that way, Griffin stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Just so you know, walking you to your car isn’t exactly an imposition. I want you to be safe, but also…I just want to walk with you.”

I come to an abrupt stop and stare at him. His hand comes gently to my elbow, and he pushes me to keep moving. “A woman like you deserves to be cared for, even if you don’t see it that way.”

We reach my car, but I’ve been rendered speechless. So much so, that even when he gives me a slight smile and a tip of his chin, I can’t say anything in return to his softly spoken words. “Bye, Liv. Be safe next week.”

Instead, I stand there completely frozen, watching him walk away.

Was Griffin Voss…flirting with me?

10

OLIVIA

The list of last-minute things to do before I go into the field is never-ending. At least it feels that way. Logically, I know that’s not true, and I know I have plenty of time to finish everything before I leave early tomorrow morning.

But this trip is perhaps the most important one of my career.

As I lean over the map of the park, already marked with the areas I want to focus my search, my mind keeps drifting back to the email still sitting in my inbox. If I’m successful on this trip and I gather the samples I hope to, it will strengthen my grant application by proving the existence of certain rare lichens that are clear indicators of biodiversity and are vital to long-term forest health.

I move on from the map, seeing as I pretty much have the image of it imprinted on my mind by now, and continue double-checking my supplies before I pack them into the large rigid-walled tote I’ll be taking along.

Tweezers, sample vials already labelled with specimens I hope to find, as well as some unlabelled, and all the elements to put together my portable microscope. It’s all there. I’m as ready as I could ever be.

Just as I close the lid on the tote, my phone rings with an incoming video call from my dad. I sit down at my desk and answer.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hi kiddo, thought I’d try to catch you before you leave tomorrow.” He squints at the screen. “Are you still at the lab? Of course you are, Miss Overprepared,” he says, shaking his head affectionately.

“Just making sure I have everything,” I say, the words coming out more defensive than I perhaps feel, likely because of how tired I am. It’s been a busy week, and sleep has eluded me the last couple of nights.

Thinking about exactly why I’ve struggled to fall asleep is not something I want to consider with my dad on the phone.