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Mallory
Iwake up to my phone buzzing. I sit up in bed, confused. Did I dream Griffin Grimm was in my room?
I reach for my phone. A text from Trish wondering if I made it home okay. I send her a quick reply and look around my bedroom. The stupid pink and unicorns and posters.
He’s not here. I know in my heart he’s not in the house. I must have fallen asleep. Is that why he left? God, I’m so lame. Who falls asleep waiting for the world’s sexiest rock star to have sex with her? No wonder I’m still a virgin.
I bury my face in my hands. I can’t regret what did happen, it was amazing. But I wish he’d stayed. Woken me up. Made love to me.
It’s almost noon already. I need to get out of this bed. If I dwell too much on missed chances, I won’t ever be able to get out of it again. I’ll just pull the covers over my head and spend the rest of my life re-living the best night of my life. I need some cats already and I’m not even in my mid-twenties.
There’s a yellow legal pad on my desk that’s out of place. Did he leave me a note? I pick it up with half- dread.
A poem? No. Lyrics. He wrote lyrics.
“He was a wild rocker, with a heart of steel,
Guitar in hand, living life on the edge of real.
But in the midst of the chaos, where the neon lights gleam,
He met an innocent woman, in the world’s wicked scheme.”
My hand moves to my heart. Is it about me? He wrote a song about me? I’m happy for his breakthrough, but sad that this is probably my goodbye.
I clutch the pad of paper to my chest. He’s broken through his writer’s block. That’s a good thing. Even though it’s bittersweet, I’m proud of him. I go back to reading, knowing teen-me is dying that Griffin Grimm wrote a song about her.
The doorbell breaks my reverie, so I place the paper down gently. Maybe it’s him!
I throw on a robe and run downstairs, hurling open the door to a very surprised delivery person.
“Um, are you Mallory,” he looks at his manifest, “uh, no last name. Are you Mallory?”
“Yes.”
He hands me a big white box with a ribbon on it. “This is for you, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Geez. Get off my lawn already.
“Thank you?” I take the box. “Who is this from?”
He shakes his head. “I just deliver the stuff, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
He turns and walks away before I can ask any more questions.
I take the box to the kitchen table and carefully untie the ribbon. I lift the lid off the box and gasp. Something beautiful and silky...and red. I pull it out carefully. It’s a red dress. Gorgeous, perfect, and obviously expensive. A note flutters down from inside the box.
My heart races as I pick it up.
“Happy Valentine’s Day. The limo will pick you up at six o’clock.”
Limo?
I rifle through the box and find beautiful strappy heels and lingerie.
My heart flutters.
Is this from Griffin? Duh. Who else? But...what does this mean?
