Page 72 of Barefoot Dreams
God, why did you have to make him so hot?Just look at the way his black button-up shirt strains against his shoulders and chest. There’s even a small patch of dark hair peeking through the top. Griffin left the first couple buttons unbuttoned, and I have to stifle a whimper as I shift in my seat because that tiny peek is enough to make my evening torturous.
Is there water anywhere here?
The feeling of his questioning eyes on me isn't helping this heat wave. Why is he looking at me like that?
Oh wait, he asked me something. Something about dating someone, right?Focus, Julie. You can’t go falling into Lala land just yet.Save that for your lonely bed and vibrator tonight.
“Are you talking about Owen?” It’s my turn to frown.
“Yeah?”
“We broke up.” I shrug. “But technically, I'm not sure we could ever call that dating.”
“What? When?” Griffin suddenly straightens in his seat.
“Um, three months ago.” Griffin’s eyes widen and then it’s as if his whole world comes crushing down. If I wasn't paying such close attention, I’d miss all those inexplicable emotions in them.
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.
“How would you? You haven’t spoken anything more than two-word sentences to me in the last three months. Apart from the other day at the beach.”
Griffin clears his throat. “I spoke to you,” he says quietly with slight indignation.
“Mm-hmm, like I said,two words. ‘Hey, Julie’ and ‘Bye, Julie.’” It’s not like I’m butthurt over it. Not at all.
Liar.
“I’m pretty sure I snuck in a ‘How are you?’ somewhere in there,” he murmurs under his breath, and I decide to move on before I taint my aura anymore with negativity.
“I didn’t peg you for a blind date kind of guy.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“Then how did you end up here?”
“I lost a bet to Luke. So, you’re really single?” I arch my eyebrows. Why is he still asking me that?
“As single as I was in my mother’s womb.” I flip the page in the menu.
“And you were all this time?” I nod, still confused. “I need a drink,” Griffin says shakily—almost desperately.
“Um, your beer is right there.” I point at the glass with amber liquid in it standing right in front of him.
“That won’t cut it. I need something way, way stronger.”
“Why?” I frown. Is a date with me that horrible for him that he needs to drink himself to death to endure it? My stomach rolls,all the courage I had suddenly vanishes. I look down. I thought I looked cute and maybe even a little sexy with the cut of this top, but I guess that’s not good enough for Griffin.
What does he want?
Who is he looking for?
God, I should just go…this was obviously a horrible idea. You can’t mesh two completely different paths into one. And this silence is getting awkward.
I don’t do awkward. Awkward is a technique to hide your true emotions behind, a shield of sorts and that just isn’t my style since I prefer to be brutally me. Smiles, wild, untamed hair, and all.
After that fateful day at Fifi’s nearly two decades ago, I fought it for a bit and found myself deeply unhappy so instead, I embraced it. And I’ve also embraced the fact that I’m not the one for him.
“Maybe I should g—” I don’t get to finish my sentence when Willa interrupts us, setting a few shots down on the table and Griffin pushes one my way.
