Page 83 of Bitter Lies

After a few hours of dancing, in which I don’t see Griffin again, we depart, Aaron escorting us to our dorm room before heading back to his own.

And after, as I lie in bed, exhausted, I think about Griffin and what could have been until I fall into a gentle sleep.

∞∞∞

The next time I see Griffin, I’m in the library, researching possible topics for a term paper.

It’s been a good few weeks of melancholy thoughts and moping because seeing Griffin brought back memories that had dulled, and now the edges are sharp and painful once more.

He’s with a few friends, all football players, I’m sure, and each sexy in their own way, but I have eyes only for him, and of course, my heart jumps into my throat, eating up his beautiful form as he passes.

One of Griffin’s sexiest attributes is his strong arms. They bulge with muscle and stretch the fabric of his shirts which I suspect is on purpose, designed specifically to torture me.

Even when we were younger, he was strong, but as time passed and he grew, those fucking arms got yummier and yummier.

Watching him now, I’m reminded of our last night together in the tree house, and I squirm uncomfortably in my chair. He makes me feel things I wasn’t sure I ever could, not after everything, and it’s this that makes me the saddest of all.

He’s the guy who makes my heart and body sing, and I’m the girl he couldn’t drop quickly enough, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m fucked, because, despite everything, he’s still the one I want with an intensity that scares me.

Is it me who’s crazy? I don’t fucking know, but a whole slew of counselors who diagnosed me sure think so.

They settle at a table a few down from mine, and uncomfortably, I consider closing up and leaving. I’m hardly going to be able to concentrate with him sitting so close by—this trip is now a bust.

With a frustrated sigh, I close out my laptop and gather up my papers, refusing to glance his way when I hear his deep laugh, which makes me squirm in my seat. Dammit.

“Hey, isn’t that the hot chick who used to live with you?”

Sinking lower in my seat, I pretend I can’t hear even though the dick isn’t exactly quiet, and whatever Griffin says is too low to make out. But unable to resist, to know if he cares, if he bothered to look my way, I glance up and meet his stare. His brows are low over his pretty eyes as he looks me over, alight with an expression I can’t define.

He’s so fucking beautiful that I wince because I’m wearing sloppy sweats and zero makeup.

It’s stupid because he’s seen me at my lowest, but still, this is a rather painful reminder to care about my appearance, which most days I shrug off because when it comes to him, I feel vulnerable and dangerously less than.

Smiling feebly, I look away and shove my shit in my bag, sighing with frustration when I drop a slew of papers to the floor, delaying my exit.

And when a shadow appears over my desk, I look up with both anticipation and dread, only for it all to drop like a lead balloon when I see it’s Jason Macklemore, standing over me with a rude grin.

I’m sure every bit of color I had in my face drains away as I stand unsteadily and fight off a wave of dizziness.

After Griffin kicked his ass, but not before he outed the last of my wretched secrets, I had hoped he might have left school—you know, ashamed and all that. No such luck, and strangely, as I stare at him, the image of him fucking my brother almost supersedes my agonizing downfall.

Of course, him disappearing was a pipe dream, and it doesn’t appear he’s any worse for wear.

Pity.

Sourly, I look away, ignoring the familiar itchy feeling rising on my skin, dirt I can never rinse clean, not in a thousand lifetimes. Never.

“What the fuck do you want?” I rasp.

“To chat.” He pulls out a chair and makes himself at home.

I desperately seek out Griffin to ensure he’s at least present, but with a frown, I note he’s no longer at his seat, and I wonder if he left when he found me here.

Fuck.

Warily, I turn back to Jason, convincing myself that it’s okay. We’re in the library, after all. I can ask for help. I can leave—he has no power over me.

“Well?” I say through clenched teeth when he stares at me with a fierce smile.

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