I didn’t come here with the intent…
I couldn’t let him finish, couldn’t let him say something about me being different than whoever’s phone number was on his hand this morning. It doesn’t matter that I see him trying to figure me out when he looks at me. It doesn’t matter that one kiss has turned into…I’m starting to lose count. Because I don’t want to be different, not tonight. I throw my rules and routine out the window. For the next few hours, I welcome the disruption.
“You,” I finally answer, still walking until I find the right spot. “Why aren’t you scared?”
“Of what? Haven’t we already determined I’m trouble?”
I stop, and he follows my lead. When I turn to him, I’m pulled back into his orbit by that contagious smile.
Admit the problem. Admit the problem!
But my body betrays my brain as I bring a hand to his face, rubbing my thumb over his bruised flesh.
“Can I ask why this happened?”
He leans his cheek into my palm and sighs, the smile falling as he does.
“You won’t like me very much if I tell you, but I will if you want me to.” He makes a sound, something like laughter, but he closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. When he opens them again, he holds me in his stare. “You know, I spent the entire day with my family, and you’re the only one who’s asked.”
I swallow the knot in my throat, the hurt I feel for this stranger in front of me mirroring the same hurt I hear in his voice.
He shakes his head, freeing himself from my hand.
“On second thought, forget it. That’s not what this night is about, right?” The smile is back, but the bite in his tone gives him away. “I mean, unless you want to share a deep, dark secret of your own, Pippi? We could go all slumber party and shit and, I don’t know, talk about our feelings.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “My name is Maggie. And do you always go from zero to asshole in less than sixty seconds?” I don’t wait for an answer and instead spin on my heel, stalking farther into the alley. I stop where the glow of the streetlight provides illumination to see what I’m doing but is dim enough to keep us hidden. I drop my bag to the ground and take out supplies, all the while hating myself for being such a hypocrite, for getting angry at him for doing exactly what I set out to do when we left Royal Grounds.
When I walked out the door, I left the Maggie he met this morning back inside the shop. She’ll be there waiting in the morning. Didn’t I give Griffin the invitation to do the same?
“I’m sorry,” we both say. He squats next to me, and our words intertwine in a chorus of regret.
“Maggie…” My name on his lips threatens to knock me over, and I sit down all the way before he can tell he’s thrown off my balance. He sits, too, facing me, his legs crossed like a pretzel, as if we’re about to play pat-a-cake in preschool.
“Griffin…” His name is new, my voice hoarse as I speak it. Have I called him nothing but Fancy Pants all night?
He scoots forward so our knees touch, and the chill that runs through me has nothing to do with the frigid Minnesota November. And when his head dips down, his forehead resting on mine, I triple-dog-dare the temperature to drop further, to plummet, and freeze us right here so this moment never ends.
I watch the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, not moving—not speaking—so as not to rock the boat that is our tiny pocket of now.
“Another ground rule,” he says, and I sigh. Because here it comes. He’s going to stop this train before it crashes, as well he should. I only wish I knew that last kiss was the last kiss.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, backing away so his eyes meet mine. I force myself to keep them open, to hold his stare. We’ve already had a fantastic few hours. If we call it a night, I’m still grateful for that.
“No back story,” he continues. “We aren’t the dating types. So we don’t need to go through all the bullshit that happens on a date. Because this isn’t one, right?”
“Right.” Never mind that it feels like one, and far more than a first date at that. Stupid kissing.
“So tonight we have no past. No future. Only a present. Does that work for you?”
How do I willingly forget when I’ve spent the last two years fighting to hang on to the shards of what I can’t remember? But Griffin’s brown eyes shine with possibility. Regardless of anything I might regret tomorrow, I can’t help wanting to prolong this night.
“Works for me.” I mask the hesitation in my voice by extending a hand, ready to shake on the deal. Griffin grabs it but lowers it gently, the contract unsigned.
“I don’t shake on deals, Pip…Maggie.”
“How do you seal a deal, then?”
My words challenge him, and his raised brows and mischievous smirk say, Challenge accepted.
“I think you know the answer to that.”