Page 83 of Barefoot Dreams
“Julie! Don’t you think we should talk?” Griffin asks as I pull out one of my long T-shirts.
“I don’t think I can handle another drinking session right now.” Although, to my utter surprise, I don’t feel like I’ve drank. There’s not a trace of a hangover. Huh.
“What? Why would we drink?”
“Because last night our talking started with a drink.”
“Okay, I admit that was a bad idea.”
I can’t see his face, but I can feel the wince he’s wearing on it right now. Because next, he has to tell me thatthiswas a bad idea.
I let out a long sigh and turn around. Time to face the music.
Ah, sweet daisies, why does he look like that in the morning? I swallow the whimper at the sight of his messy, bed hair sticking into different directions. His naked torso with tiny nail marks…courtesy of yours truly… Those abs so well defined especially it’s unnatural and his intense brown eyes on me.
“It’s fine, Griff. I know this wasn’t what you wanted, we got drunk and…and I promise to keep it between us.”
“Um, what?”
“The talk. We just had it. We’re good.” I turn back toward my clothes. Not that Iwant tostop looking at him, Ineed toturn back around because I feel those tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.
There’s no need to walk around it, the faster these words were out in the open the faster I can start putting the pieces of my heart back together.
But honestly, at this point, is there even a point in doing that?
Hurriedly, I find a pair of my boho lounge pants and thank the universe that they happen to be my most cheerful ones. I need all these colorful flowers to keep me from losing it.
I slept with Griffin Owling.
And it was the best night of my life.
“Julie.” He calls out my name, but I ignore it as a lone tear escapes me.
I should change out of this huge T-shirt.
“Little J.” There goes another one…
Nope, screw it, I’ll be extra fashionable this morning. Lia already thinks I dress like a homeless person on crack, this won’t surprise her.
But before I can take a step toward the door, two strong arms circle my body from behind. “Julie, talk to me,” he says as the warmth of his skin seeps through the thin layer of clothing I have on, but I can’t talk. I can’t. So, I just shake my head as another sob escapes me and doesn’t go unnoticed by Griffin.
There is a low curse and then he turns me around to face him. “You don’t want to talk, fine, then look at me, Julie.” Griffin stops talking as soon as he sees my face and his whole body sags, his eyes softening as he brings them to my eye level. Both his hands cradling my face. “Birdy, why are you crying? This isn’t something you wanted, is it? I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, Julie. I messed up. I got so nervous and got us drunk and I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’ll leave if that’s what you want, just please don’t cry, baby. Tears don’t belong on your beautiful face.”
What is he talking about? Why is he saying those things? Why does he sound like he’s in pain while his eyes are full of longing?None of this makes sense and I’ve never seen Griffin act this way.
“I-I don’t understand,” I stammer through the tears.
“What don’t you understand, little J?” He wipes another tear off my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Any of it. Why aren’t you saying it was a mistake?”
“Because it was the furthest thing from one.”
“What?” I breathe out, feeling that little crease forming in between my brows. The one Griffin reaches over to smooth out with his thumb. We stay quiet for a moment, him just caressing my face, smoothing out any confused lines on it and me, searching his for any answers.
Griffin wrapped the sheet from the bed around his waist when he got up, but other than that, he’s naked. Naked and holding me. In my house. After we had sex. After we got drunk and had hot, incredible, naughty sex. After he said that I wasn’t a mistake.
Because that’s what he said, right?
