His Kiss (5 page)

Grrr!

That had me seething.
Like cheerleaders were so cool—so above everyone else.
Like of course
I
was good enough for him—I wasn’t a cheerleader.

What really pissed me off (and broke my heart) was he seriously felt that way, really and truly. His teammates and the hockey cheerleaders—to him, they were
Gods,
in this world he wanted to be part of.
So irritatingly bad.

Anyway, Monday morning I texted Aiden and told him I didn’t need a ride to school, Jazz had me covered. But Aiden showed up at my house anyway. He came extra early—bearing roses and an apology note that made me cry. It was so sweet and honest and said all the right words to get my heart all mushy.

Plus, I wanted to make-up. More than anything, I really did.

So, I let him drive me to school. But I didn’t exactly forgive him, not exactly. I felt wounded and betrayed and it didn’t seem that damage to my heart would ever heal, no matter what he said or did. It was sad, tragic, but that’s the way it was. It kept putting me near tears even after his note and apologies.

As we walked down the school hallway together—not holding hands, but not fighting either—we passed Griffin at his locker.

The Griff smiled at me as we walked by, getting my heart kind of fluttery and beating all spastic and wild though I knew it was stupid—stupid to get so worked up over a guy that was just playing around. But oh, his kiss!
His kiss, his kiss, his
kiss
.
It totally rocked my world—even now, still, I was reeling from it, even while I was bleeding from my boyfriend’s knife in the back.

“Hey, my Three Minutes in Heaven,” Griffin drawled near my ear as Aiden and I walked by. He was with Hailey, standing close to her, messing with her iPod. Still, I could feel his eyes on me as we passed and he was still looking at me when I glanced back afterwards. His eyes lingered on me as he bit at a small grin, looking yummy and seductive without even trying. But then Hailey nudged him and he went back to talking with her, probably instantly forgetting all about me because he was like that. Out of sight, out of mind. When a girl wasn’t right there in his sight, she was completely out of his mind—he instantly forgot about her … or in this case,
me
.

“I hate that guy,” Aiden growled, apparently noticing I’d glanced back.

“Oh, and I
adore
Fiona,” I said, making it sound like we were in the same situation. But we weren’t. Not even close.

Fiona actually really seemed to like Aiden—like, a lot. And Griffin was just messing around—playing with me to stir up Aiden.

So …

Grrr.

***

Slowly, over the next week, things seemed to be getting better between Aiden and me. I mean, we weren’t fighting anymore and he was being extra attentive and sweet and writing me romantic poems and love songs and stuff. And I’m such a sap, a total sucker for that sort of thing.

So, I was beyond distressed when I got to school the next Monday morning. Jazz had given me a ride since Aiden had hockey practice before classes. But just as we came in the school building Destiny grabbed my arm looking all anxious and worried. Just from that—her expression—my heart was in my throat.

 
“Aiden’s about to get his head bashed in,” she said.

A violent tremor rushed through my body as she gestured down the hallway. There was a large crowd of students gathering near Aiden’s locker, too many for me to see what was going on—but I could figure it out easy enough. One of Aiden’s teammates was about to make good on the mounting threats. Aiden bugged them. He was loud and annoying, trying to prove he was tough. It pissed them off.

My heart was exploding. I rushed toward the mob of onlookers, then tried to fight my way through the crowd to Aiden. I got close enough to see it was Jake Edwards fighting with him—huge, mean Jake Edwards.

“Stop it!” I shrieked. “Leave him alone!”

I tried pushing through the rest of the crowd to get to Aiden and Jake. My frantic plan was to pull them apart, and make Jake stop pounding on Aiden. But just as I was almost there someone grabbed me around the waist from behind, pulling me back.

It was Griffin.

“Don’t go in there,” he grunted as I fought to break free of his hold. “Grange, you’re going to get hurt.”

“No! Aiden’s getting hurt,” I cried. “
Griffin,
let me go! I have to stop it.”

Griffin quirked an eyebrow, but still held my wrist. He eyed me up and down as though making it clear I was tiny. “How are you going to stop it?”

I swallowed, about to stutter something out but then realized he was right. I would get massacred if I got near the violent, wild fist throwing.

I swallowed
again,
looking up into Griffin’s brown eyes, totally pleading, though I knew it was pointless. Griffin disliked Aiden. Really, really disliked him. Still, I had to try. “Will you stop them? Please?”

“Me?” Griffin raised his eyebrows, eyeing me as though I asked him to throw the cafeteria trashcan over his head—something disgusting and nasty.

“No.” He let go of my arms, taking a step away from me. “No. No way. The punk has it coming.”

“Griffin,
please
. He’s getting clobbered. Please!”

Griffin winced as I begged.

“Please, Griffin? Please, please?”

He gazed up at the ceiling flinching his jaw. Finally, he stared into my eyes seeming to be contemplating my request though visibly repulsed by it.

“Please?”

He let out a breath, punching the locker next to him, then reached through the crowd and grabbed Jake’s arm as though it was nothing.

“Fight’s over,” Griffin said.

“What? No way. What’s with you, man
?!
” Jake tried to break free of Griffin’s hold but Griffin pinned his arm behind his back.

“It’s over.”

 
I ran to my bloody, stupid boyfriend, too worried and anxious about him to thank Griffin or even acknowledge his help.

But that afternoon in cooking class we made fat double-chocolate cookies.
I mean, they were huge.
And we each got to take two. So I put one in a baggie for Aiden and the other I put in a baggie for Griffin.

I was going to give it to Griffin right after class, but then I couldn’t. I mean, I waited at his locker planning to give it to him, but when I saw him coming I chickened out and ran away. So instead, all during French class I worked on a “thank you” poem. It was pretty too. I liked it.

But I made it kind of “vague” and almost impossible to understand. Because I decided I would leave it for Griffin anonymously. He would never know it was from me or what it was for. He would just know that he did something nice and someone appreciated it. I thought that was kind of romantic.

I left class early saying I needed to use the restroom,
then
I hurried and used it so it wouldn’t be a lie. Then I ran to Griffin’s locker and slipped my poem through the little slot in the door and then, quickly, I taped the cookie, still in its baggie, to the outside of Griffin’s locker.

Then wham, I took off running down the hall super fast so I would be nowhere near him or his locker when he discovered the cookie and poem.

***

So, that was that was that—pretty
much.
I’d thanked Griffin in my own, shy, twisted way. Then, I went to work on forgetting about him. It ended up being way harder than I thought it would be. Way harder. The thing was—his kiss.

I found myself thinking about it a lot. Like, constantly.
Way, way, way too much.
Way too much.
At night before going to sleep, when I was writing a love song or poem, when I was brushing my teeth or taking out the garbage—
all
the time.
Even when I was kissing Aiden.

I couldn’t help it! Thoughts of Griffin’s kiss would just creep up into
my everything
and turn my brain all mushy and oozy. It was bad.

And it was that way for weeks.
Weeks and weeks.
So, when Aiden and I finally broke up for the first time I was crushed … but not devastated.
Because well, his kiss didn’t exactly do it for me.
Not anymore.

So, when I caught him sitting all close to Fiona in the school library, not kissing but practically. I mean, they were basically fused together as they were “studying” and he—he played with a lock of her hair. Played with it! Like curled it around his finger as he gazed at her like she was a love goddess come from the hockey rink to make all of his “guy” fantasies come true.

Seeing that—it was like a punch in the stomach.
By Aiden.
And his actions.
And his eyes—the way they were looking at her all,
I want you
.

Oh man.

Witnessing that scene—trauma to my heart. I clutched my stomach, reeling from the pain. Seriously, I almost died from a broken heart right there. But instead I took a ragged breath telling myself I’d had enough. I couldn’t take this, not anymore.

I mean, he liked her.
He did. I could tell by the way he was looking at her and smiling at her and drooling on her. It was sick. Made me sick. I started to shake and sweat and practically double over from pain.

He was my
boyfriend
. But the way he was acting with her, you would never guess it. Not in a million years. It was more like they were in love and going to start making-out any second—right there on the library table.

Okay, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I knew that. Aiden would never technically cheat on me, not
technically
. But to me—at that moment—he
was
cheating on me.
With his eyes.
And heart. And
hair-curling-fingers
.

So, instead of going into the library and talking to Aiden as I was supposed to—as we planned—I ran home and cried. And cried and cried. I felt as though a knife had been slammed into my heart. And back.
By Aiden.

The next day I broke up with him.

***

The next few weeks were horrible and black and involved a lot of me curled up in a ball crying. The thing was, I was confused. And hurt. Confused by my feelings. Hurt that my so-called boyfriend (or ex now) had the hots for some other girl.

Though Aiden would text me time and time again saying things like, “I miss you, Ally,” and “Just talk to me, Ally,” I would never text him back. I was waiting (hoping) for something bigger. Something he would do or say to convince me I had made a mistake, something to reassure me that we were still right for each other. Something. Something to help me feel confident in our relationship again and help me believe we still belonged together. I needed that.

I was waiting for it … but it never came.

Then one horrible Monday I rounded the corner heading to Biology but stopped dead in my tracks. There was Aiden up ahead at his locker—holding hands with Fiona.

Everything inside me died. I couldn’t move or breathe.

Aiden must have felt my eyes on him because he looked up at me as he was smiling and talking. His eyes turned pained and he winced, dropping Fiona’s hand like it was on fire. Fiona noticed. She turned her attention from her friends to give Aiden a bewildered look. Then her eyes followed his gaze to me standing there in the hallway watching them.