“I wouldn’t miss it,” he says.
“Don’t you mean we?” Elaina asks. “Your invitation will have a plus one.” I flush not only with the heat of embarrassment, but of rejection, too. Because his first instinct was to think of himself alone. Not us.
“Right. Of course. We,” he says, his hand loosening its grip on mine.
A minute ago he couldn’t hide his smile if he tried, and now he plasters on a grin so fake I wonder how he can be the same person.
“We should probably get going.” I nudge his arm with my elbow. “I mean, if you’re ready.”
We’ve all been standing on the verge of leaving for close to ten minutes now.
“Yeah. I’m ready. You all ready?”
The rest of the group responds in a chorus of “readies.”
“So we’ll see you next December!” Jordan says, giddy as she hugs us both again, and Griffin and I nod, not because we’ll be there but because it’s the only response we can give for now.
Then the mass of us moves out the door with final good-byes before we head to our respective cars. And as much as part of me doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to be rejected outright even though my mind about us is already made up, another part of me wants to know what could have turned off the gleam in his eyes so quickly.
“What was that all about?” I ask him as he opens my door for me. I’m not going to let him distract me with chivalry.
“What are you talking about?” But his voice is flat, his incredulity unconvincing.
I wait for him to round the truck to his own door, till he sits in his seat and slides the key in the ignition.
“Let me try this again,” I say. “I saw you in there. Something had you all, I don’t know, giddy. That is, until Duncan mentioned the wedding. In Greece. Because doesn’t that sound like a shitty place to go in winter?”
He sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. He rests his hand on the clutch, but we remain in park as he readies himself to speak.
“I graduate in May,” he says.
I nod. This isn’t news to either of us. So I wait for him to continue.
“And as soon as I have that degree in hand, my parents are kind of done with me financially. I can’t afford one ticket to Greece, not to mention two.”
He says all of this to the steering wheel. I don’t understand what he means because all it takes is one look at the truck he drives, the clothes he wears, and, shit, the house he lives in to know this boy comes from money. If anyone can swing a couple tickets to Greece, I’m pretty sure it’s the guy sitting next to me.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, knowing his relationship with his father is strained but also knowing when it came down to it, he planned to do what was expected of him.
He turns to me now, the heat from the vents fogging the windows.
“I wanted to wait until we were alone to tell you. I wanted you to be the first to know, but now I guess I’m realizing the limitations of my decision.”
Reason tells me not to succumb to the uncertainty in his eyes, to the plea in his look. But my body ignores reason when we are this close, and I lift my hand to his cheek. Was it only last night I undressed on the window seat for him, promising him something more? The possibility in that moment feels so far away, yet I can’t ignore the charged air between us now, if only from a touch meant to comfort.
He leans into my palm and smiles softly, but the smile is real enough to tug at my insides, to fill me with an ache for what I am giving up.
“You’re right. There’s a lot I’m good at, and I’d be really good at joining my father’s company. But it’s not what I want.”
I let my hand fall away, and my fingertips skim his jaw and neck. The charged air crackles to life, but I ignore it, push it down.
I ask him the question I asked in the library again. “What do you want, Griffin?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think I really knew till I met you. Hell, I’m still not sure I know, but I’m getting closer. While I’m figuring it out, I applied for the AmeriCorps coalition. They have them in all major cities across the U.S. and I can handle staying in Minneapolis for a little longer.” He lets out a breath, and I hang on the words, till I met you. “I want to tell myself it’s okay to be lost, that it’s okay to still be figuring it out because I’ve never tried to figure it out before.”
At this I smile, and he returns the expression. It’s okay to be lost.
A light laugh escapes his lips before his smile loses its easiness. “Bottom line is I’ve been waiting for my dad to give up on me, to see I wasn’t capable of being his carbon copy. Instead he waited me out until I realized I couldn’t live up to his expectations and be happy, too.”
I grab his hand. “Griffin, this is big. It’s huge, and amazing, and wonderful, and I’m proud of you.”
He looks down for a second, and when his eyes meet mine again, they shine with pride.