Page 13 of The Plan

“That’s your problem, Griffin.” I look over at him, and his brows have a crease in them. “You’re arrogant.” He looks offended but quickly recovers.

“No, I’m not.” He adds, “And don’t call me Griffin.” I feel my brows furrow a bit at his last part and steal a glance at him, only to catch him already watching me.

“Everyone calls you Griffin.”

“You’re not everyone,” he answers too quickly, knocking me off course. I’m not everyone? Whatever that means.

Needing to change the topic, I swiftly do so. “Remember when we first met?”

“Of course, I do.” I feel a smile tug at my lips, but he keeps talking. “Are you going to confess that you instantly fell for me?”

I break into a laugh before shaking my head at him. “Your replies are not really supporting the case that you’re not arrogant.”

He shakes his head with a smile and leans back in his seat. “It’s called a joke.”Right.

“Was it also a joke when I tried giving you tips during practice, and you told me, and I quote, ‘I know what I’m doing, babe,’ as you were literally throwing slower than a turtle?” I remind him of the first time we met, and he sits up in his seat, clearly offended.

“I was the fastest pitcher on the team, and I still am.”

I grin at his pride. Sure, he was the fastest on the team, but I knew he wasn’t throwing as fast ashecould, and my tip could’ve helped him improve. I think I, of all people, can notice something a baseball player is doing wrong, considering I’ve watched my mom correct professional players' techniques for half of my life.

I guess his coach corrected him or he learned over time because he throws a hell of a lot faster, but he could have improved sooner if he listened to me.

“That’s why you push me away? Because of something I saidthreeyears ago?” That’s not why. I didn’t care in that moment, although it rubbed me the wrong way. When I don’t respond, he stretches his arms behind his head. “You should let go of this petty grudgeandyour rule. Let me take you out.”

“You should admit you were wrong, and maybe I will.” I won’t, but I want to hear him say it. He watches me carefully before his eyes cut down to my lips, and I feel my entire body heat with the way he watches me.

Hazel curses, pulling us apart. “Shit, my phone died. What time is it?” I look at my phone and gasp at the time.

“It’s my birthday.” Hazel, of course, knows what I mean and starts packing her things, but Sire sits up in his seat again.

“Shit, is today your birthday?” I wish. I love birthdays.

I shake my head and reassure him. “No, I meant the time reads my birthday, 06:14 p.m. June fourteenth.” I love it when I notice it in numbers like that.

Hazel gets up, grabbing her tray. “My lunch break is over. I should go. I’ll see you at home, V. Bye, Sire.” I get up to hug her goodbye, and she whispers in my ear before I can pull away. “Do yourself the biggest favor ever and bend your rule for him.”

I roll my eyes and sit back down. Sire speaks up before she walks off. “Bye, Hazel. Oh, August said to call him, by the way.”

Hazel turns to him with a bored expression. “You literally just heard me say my phone was dead.” I stifle a laugh, and Sire doesn’t say anything about her smart response. When she walks off, he turns my chair again and pulls me a bit closer.

“She’s kind of mean.” I throw my head back, laughing at how he whispers it, but he isn’t wrong. “August is like a bubble, and he’s into her?” He says it like he’s so confused, but I don’t blame him.

From the times we all hung out together, I picked up on how bubbly and chipper August is while Hazel is kind of… well, not. “Opposites attract, right? Besides, they're cute.” He only shrugs in response.

“Please stop crying.” We both turn our heads to see a little girl about three or four throwing a tantrum. She throws herself on the floor and starts screaming about wanting to see the lions. Obviously, that's an issue because this is an aquarium. Ugh, kids.

I turn back around, cringing at the sounds of her screaming bloody murder. “And that’s my reminder to take my birth control.” Sire tries not to laugh, and the little girl starts screaming about how he’s laughing at her. He turns back to me, hiding his face from the little girl, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Do you want kids?” He can’t be serious.

I point behind my shoulder with my thumb. “Did you not just see that little brat?” He kicks my leg under the table, and his eyes widen in warning because they’re still behind us, but I highly doubt anyone heard me over her screeches.

He gets up to throw away my tray and grabs my hand.

“What are you doing? I was still eating that.” I get up, grab my piña colada, and follow him out of the food court, where it’s a lot quieter.

“No, you weren’t, and I don’t think you wanted to keep hearing her wailing. Plus, I want to see a beaver or something.” Theydon’t have beavers here, but I’ll let him walk around looking for them.

---