Page 38 of Griffin

Griffin gave a curt nod, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. Did he think it was Todd calling again?

“Just giving him an update,” I added, keeping my tone casual.

Griffin coughed lightly, focusing on the glass he was scrubbing. It was already clean, but he kept at it anyway, like it gave him an excuse not to look at me.

His jaw tightened briefly, as if he’d just realized I’d caught him watching me.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You alright there?”

He glanced at me, then back at the glass, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “fine.”

I chuckled, the tension from the earlier call fading. As I worked, a thought I’d been trying to ignore started to surface again.

Why was Griffin at the convention in the first place?

He didn’t seem like the type to care about gaming events. And how had he known I was streaming the other night?

The first time, sure—he’d been there when I stormed out of the bar. But last night? That didn’t add up.

I glanced at Griffin out of the corner of my eye. Should I ask him? Maybe later. For now, it felt easier to let the question linger.

Before I could overthink it, Griffin reached under the counter and slid an envelope in front of me. “Your pay.”

I blinked, then grabbed it, grinning as I peeked inside. “Wow. For a second, I really thought you weren’t going to pay me.”

Griffin made a sound between a grunt and a scoff, but the faint twitch of a smile gave him away.

I laughed, waving the envelope. “Listen, I want to do something to say thanks—for, you know, everything the past couple of nights.”

Griffin’s eyes flicked to the side, where Noah was wiping down tables.

The moment Noah caught Griffin’s glance, he quickly ducked his head.

Griffin turned slightly, shielding our conversation from view. “It’s nothing.”

“No, really,” I insisted. “Since I’ve got this now—” I waved the envelope for emphasis, “—dinner’s on me tonight.”

Griffin hesitated, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Great. Just don’t expect anything too fancy. I’m thinking burgers and fries. Maybe milkshakes if I’m feeling generous.”

He let out a soft chuckle—quiet, but enough to make my chest feel lighter.

The neon sign flickered overhead as we stood outside the diner. I tilted my head, taking in the weathered sign.

Inside, the place looked like it had seen better days—scuffed floors, patched-up booths, and mismatched chairs.

Yet, there was something comforting about it.

The crowd seemed to agree: a mix of people who wanted a quiet spot to unwind after work and those who clearly knew the staff by name.

Griffin glanced at me, smirking. “Wow. When you said I shouldn’t expect much, you weren’t kidding.”

“Hey!” I smacked his shoulder, half-annoyed, half-joking. “They’ve got great burgers here.”

He chuckled, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “If you say so.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, if you paid me more, I could’ve taken you somewhere nicer.”

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