I do the dismissive hand wave thingy again, reaching for the new drink Griffin bought.I slurp loudly instead of answering him, savoring the vodka tang and the fresh strawberries mixed in.When I set it down, I let out a happy sigh.“God, that was tasty.It’s strawberry season, isn’t it?”
“You know it.”Griffin lifts his drink in response, which is a glass of dark amber beer.He takes a sip.“You didn’t answer my question.”
“True.I did not.”I sip again at the drink, and in the back of my mind, I know this is a bad idea.I’ve already had enough.But it’s so yummy.It’s so fruity.And I’m sonervousnext to Griffin’s heat and strength.
“Who’s ready for pool?”Julie squeezes my arm as she gets up from her barstool.Roxie and Sara follow suit, and Branson is already halfway across the bar to the pool table.
“Not me,” I mumble, propping my head against my hand.The pool table looks so far away, and this stool is so comfy next to Griffin.
Griffin cocks his head, looks me up and down.Branson starts calling for Griffin, but he just turns around and shakes his head.“We’re not playing,” he calls out, which makes a silly grin sprout on my face.
“What’s so funny?”Griffin asks before sipping his beer.
I don’t know how to explain the swell of emotion in my chest.How happy I am that he’s here.How right it feels to gaze upon him.The way his presence has taken this evening from good to perfect.I could curl up in his lap and stay there until tomorrow.In fact, I want to.
But none of those things seems like “just catching up with old friends” territory.They betray the fact that I would do dirty things to those washboard abs of his.Not to mention those biceps, and those perfect, kissable lips…
“I’m just having a great time,” I finally say with a sigh.
Because it’s true.I’m with Griffin, and for one blessed night, I’m not thinking about what a mess I am.
CHAPTER FOUR
CASEY
I awake with a start, sucking in a sharp breath.The first thing I see is bright white, the ceiling of a bedroom.It’s the morning, and I take a few deep breaths as my consciousness comes back online.
I went out last night to meet up with old friends.I remember that much.And then we were at High-5’s…and then Griffin showed up and made me so happy…
And then it goes fuzzy.
I sit up and groan.My mouth is drier than the desert, and a headache throbs to life.That’s when I realize I’m in somebody else’s bedroom.
I blink as I take in the surroundings.It’s clearly a spare room, with zero decorations on the walls and the most perfunctory of furniture.I’m on a twin bed, where I slept in my clothes, and someone threw a fuzzy blanket on me.Where the fuck am I?
While I’m struggling to recall, I glance over at the nightstand.There’s a bottle of water there, with a note propped against it.I grab the notecard and squint to digest the chicken scratch.
Casey– Don’t freak out when you wake up.You’re safe at my house (this is Griff).You were trashed so I brought you here to sleep it off.New toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom for you.Take an ibuprofen too.
That’s when I notice the travel size bottle of medicine next to the water.
Another swell of emotion threatens to unravel me.Tears prick my eyes as I absorb the utter sweetness of this man.I imagine him carrying me home over his shoulder, and the thought is both precious and hot.The things I would sacrifice in order to have that man toss me over his shoulder…
Griff Keegan is a gem who rescues drunk childhood friends after they’ve had too many strawberry cocktails.And I am…the mess who got too drunk and put myself in an unsafe situation.
Embarrassment crashes through me.I hear my mom and my sister in my head, scolding me for not acting my age.For being sloppy.I hear Jake telling me to get my shit together.My head falls to my hands, the voices growing louder.You’re thirty.You can’t be doing this.I never do stuff like this—isn’t a one-off allowed?Still, this looks awful.You can’t mess up.You can’t wallow.You can’t let anyone think that you’re doing less than stellar.
When I raise my head, I’m crying.If I’d escaped the self-flagellation for a few hours last night, here it was again to reclaim my headspace.I wipe away a few tears and reach for the ibuprofen.
“Thank you, Griffin,” I whisper through the tears, a wave of gratitude so profound overcoming me that it brings more tears, the good kind this time.I choke down the pills, chug some water, and resolve to start my day.My phone says it’s nine a.m., which feels like a decent start to my Saturday.
I pull open the bedroom door and peek out into the hallway.Everything is bright and neat.I spot the open bathroom door at the end of the hallway and quietly pad that direction.I don’t hear anything going on in the house; maybe Griffin is still asleep.
I find the toothbrush and toothpaste he promised and grin as I freshen up.I doubt even Jake would have done something like that for me,whilewe were dating and living separately.He’d never been the masculine protector type.Jake was the serious, business-minded professional that I’d equated with stability and safety.He was the type of guy my parents and Claire would approve of, andheartilyapproved of, which was hilarious because I think they’d liked him more than I had.
These were all recent revelations, of course, on the heels of the breakup.It’s amazing what someone can ignore in favor of what seems to be right.
Once I’m ready for the day, I head down the hallway, past a closed door I assume is Griffin’s, and into the main part of the house.It’s a huge great room that bleeds into the kitchen and dining area, open floor plan style.It’s meticulous, with expensive couches, a massive television, even a neatly folded Cleveland Crushers blanket draped over the couch.I stand there blinking and taking it all in.
