Page 80 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 3

They let the silence drag as I looked into Jen’s eyes. I could feel Griffin looking at my profile, and I knew that the shot would be all over social media five minutes after the episode aired.

“Perfect,” Jen said, looking at her tablet. “I think we’ve got everything in the house.”

The crew got together for a lunch break, and I wandered off after Griffin to do the same, but away from the observers and producers and crews. He and I went to the Thirsty Thinker for a round of juicy, medium-rare burgers and a portion of fries to share. Griffin made the standard order and paid for us both, then led the way to an empty booth.

As we sat down with a huff, I thought we were about to talk. Things needed to be aired out, but the knot in my throat wasn’t letting me open the subject.

He looked away.

Why are you mad at me? I wanted to ask. It was an indulgent, defensive question. I hated myself for wanting to ask that one in particular. Especially because I knew the answer. He wasn’t. He wasn’t mad at me. He just couldn’t stand looking at me.

I was a reminder of the new reputation that followed him everywhere. And while he could take it all in good spirit as a joke and nothing more, when the bill was settled and the day was over, he had to sit with me and have that hang over his head.

As if I wanted everyone to daydream about me having a crush on Griffin. As if I wanted people to write stories about the thing I could never, ever have. As if it didn’t hurt like hell that some fictional versions of us sat in this very booth and held hands secretly under the table, or went to the movies just so we could be in the dark other than the dark confines of our little room.

Damn this school and its marketing department. Damn this series.

Our burgers arrived, and Griffin thanked the cute waitress like she’d just given him the first sip of water after crossing the Sahara on foot. He winked at her after she had shared a particularly sweet smile with him and called him by his name.

I reached for my plate and took a bite. It got stuck in my throat immediately, choking me until tears welled in my eyes. It was a ridiculous, stupid, childish way to behave.

I set my burger down.

“Something wrong?” Griffin asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not that hungry, actually.”

“I’m starving.”

He ate, finishing his half of the fries and digging into mine after shooting me a pleading look. I nodded. Throughout it all, I managed a couple more bites, and I agreed to have half of the accidental onion ring that had appeared in our fries. “It’s bad luck not to split it,” Griffin said.

When he finished his food and wiped his lips with a napkin, he lifted his gaze to meet mine for the briefest of moments. Deep shame filled his hazel eyes as he averted his gaze.

Right.

That was the feeling I provoked in him.

I’d never wanted to be in this stupid thing. I’d had a million reasons not to do it.

And only one reason to go through with it.

The one that had always been the reason for all the things I’d ever done. Griffin Shaw.

“Griff,” I said, looking at him while he seemed interested in a sticky spill of juice on the floor. He peeled his gaze off the stain and looked at me, still guilty and ashamed. “Is there anything we need to talk about?”

His eyebrows twisted into a confused frown, the fakest he’d ever pulled off. “No?” He shrugged, looking up as if a higher power would grant him the wisdom to understand what I was talking about.

I nodded. “Cool.”

Silence lingered between us until he loosened his tense shoulders a little. “It’s stressful, Andrei. Let’s just relax and be chill.”

“Be chill. Got it.” I inhaled, held my breath, then exhaled. “I can do that.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded.

“We’d better go back to finish this episode,” he said, checking the time on the wristwatch I’d bought him for his eighteenth birthday. I’d been saving money for six months to be able to afford it because we’d passed the corner shop where they sold watches together, and he’d stopped to point it out.