That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(86)

“Just informing you. She’ll tell you you’re her favorite and how you’re making such an impact on her life, but it’s a load of crap. The girl kisses ass for good grades. Classic Mikaila. Watch your back with that one—she’s known to steal highlighters from teachers. I heard she has a collection and writes the teacher’s name on each one along with the year she took it.”

“No she doesn’t,” I chuckle.

“She does. Ask any one of your teacher friends. She has a reputation, so keep an eye on your highlighters.”

“Noted.” I scan the dining room quickly before asking in a whisper, “Do you know anything about George Woodside?”

“Smart-ass little fucker. Incredibly intelligent and uses it against his teachers. His parents could care less about the gossip train, so he’s a tough one to crack. My advice with George: study what he says, pay attention and look for a flaw, point out that flaw, and prove him wrong right there on the spot. It’s the only way to keep him quiet. And if he still gives you trouble, I’ll make sure to scare the living crap out of him somehow.”

“Scaring middle schoolers, huh? You have no pride.”

“Not when it comes to you.” He winks and takes another sip of his water.



“I feel really stupid right now.”

“Why?” Griffin lowers his spoonful of soup.

“Because I waited this long to come here and try the famous lobster bisque. What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m glad you waited, because I got to be the one who introduced you to it.”

“It’s so cheesy and perfect.” I savor every swallow, occasionally dipping the hearty bread that came with the main dishes.

“That’s why it’s the best meal in Port Snow, hands down.”

“I’m seeing the light now.” I wink. “No pun intended.”

“Cheesy, Ren, cheesy.” He pauses and winks back. “Now that’s no pun intended.”

I shake my head, giggling. “Is this what happens to people when they start dating in this town? They become hopelessly corny?”

“The cool factor is dropped a few notches; I’ve heard of this happening before.”

“Are we not cool?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answers. “I think we lost the cool factor the minute we started gossiping about preteens.”

I point my spoon accusingly at him. “Hey, you started that conversation.”

“True, but it was for the good of the math department. You have to know the lay of the land if you want to teach the best algebra you can.”

“And teen gossip helps with that?”

“Easily.”

“Well, are there any tidbits of gossip I need to know to help me be the best girlfriend to Griffin Knightly?”

“Hmm.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m sure there are some false stories floating around, so you can’t believe everything you hear, but I think one of the best things you can do for yourself is spread your own stories. That way, you can see who you can’t trust and who you can, which is pretty much no one.”

“Spread my own rumors?”

He nods and swallows another spoonful of his soup. “Come up with some stupid story and tell someone; see how far it can go. It’s easier to deal with made-up stories than real things built up into blatant lies.”

“Like how you turned into Tarzan to save me?”

“Exactly.” He chuckles to himself. “That’s still my favorite version of our story.”

Our story.

My stomach does a few somersaults.

It might have taken a while to get to this point, but I’m so glad I was patient. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on our story.



“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

I shake my head, the wind breezing through my hair. “I’m perfect. Just don’t let go of me.”

We’re standing outside of the restaurant, looking out over the ocean as the lighthouse lamp rotates, highlighting the water with each pass of its beam.

Dinner was beyond amazing—the crunch of the bread, the smooth texture of the soup. Griffin was right: it was the best meal I’ve had in Port Snow so far, and I’m so glad I got to experience it with him.

After sharing a whoopie pie for dessert, we find a secluded spot against the railing that overlooks the ocean. Griffin wraps his arms around me, holding me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head.

“Thank you for tonight, Griffin. I had a really nice time.”

“Me too.” He kisses the top of my head, and I can feel him gear up to say something else, but he lets out a long breath instead.

As we stand there, wrapped up in each other, I wonder what he wanted to say, why he held back.

Does he feel the same way I feel about him? Because the feelings I have for this man go beyond just like—they flirt with love and grow deeper and deeper with every minute I spend with him.

Are his feelings as strong as mine, or does he think we’re moving too fast?

It doesn’t really matter at this point. While my feelings run deep, our relationship is too new to bring up the l word.

So instead, I say, “What’s your typical good night look like on a date?”