What If (If Only.... #2)(60)
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.
My stomach flips at the sight of it, at him so happy with himself. The moment is short-lived.
“My apartment, my car, letting me travel and take time off—all of that was conditional. As long as I took the GMAT, got into a good business school, and actually enrolled in said business school, none of that would have changed. It was all a means to an end.”
“But you changed the ending of your story,” I tell him. “Isn’t that what you want?”
He nods. “Now, yeah. But it wasn’t always. Having my future laid out before me like that? It was kind of nice. I didn’t have to worry about what I was going to do with my life. I didn’t have to make any big decisions. I could just…be.”
I see the appeal of a life like that. It’s the part of my life that will always be missing—a guarantee. But is a promise of the wrong future better than no promise at all?
“Was he angry?” I ask him.
Griffin sighs. “That’s the part that kills me. No. He wasn’t. But he was disappointed that I wasted all this time, all this money on an education I’m not going to use the way I was supposed to. He sounded…tired.”
Like Griffin sounds right now.
“But no money,” I say.
“No money. He said it’s time I figure it all out. On my own. Should be interesting on a government stipend, but you said I’m creative, right? But it means there’s no way I can make it to Duncan and Elaina’s wedding. No way I can take you. And I’d want to, you know. If money wasn’t an issue, I’d be asking you right now to promise you’ll be my date.”
At this he inches to the edge of his seat, his hip pressing into the gear shift. His hands find my cheeks, and I close my eyes, not able to deny the effect he has on me, his skin on mine.
“Shit happens, Maggie. So you got sick. No big deal. You met me on a not-so-spectacular morning after, and for reasons I can’t begin to imagine, you’re still here.” Then he kisses me, his lips soft while day-old stubble tickles my chin. “I’m still here. I’m all-in. Full deck.” More kisses, his warm mouth tasting of coffee and possibility. “Tell me you’re still here,” he says, pulling away for air. When he kisses me again, before I give him my answer, I open my mouth, letting myself taste him without holding back, and my resolve crumbles.
“I’m still here,” I tell him. Because I want to give him something in the wake of all this uncertainty. I want to give myself a chance at a guarantee. At one for both of us. I thought we were supposed to be each other’s escape. Maybe I was wrong.
We drive, the trip filled with conversation about Griffin looking for a job, finding a cheaper apartment, figuring out if he’s going to stay in Minneapolis now that the possibilities are endless. We both avoid any talk of last night, which means I get to avoid dropping any bombs about my health, about last night not being an isolated incident. The day belongs to him, and I let him talk, let him process his new life. When we get back to his place, Miles waits in his car to take me home.
“I texted him,” I say. “When we were getting close.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess you want to get home and regroup. Can I see you later?” he asks. While there’s nothing I want more right now than to forget about talking and instead find myself in Griffin’s bed, I don’t think he’ll let me off the hook that easily. He’s right. I need to regroup, get back into my routine. We don’t need to rush into whatever this next phase might be. At least not today.
“I have a paper due Monday morning. Is it okay if we wait until then? Library at one o’clock?”
He bends toward me, his lips finding mine again, a kiss that is good-bye for now but says There’s no way we’re finished. This kiss is long, and soft, and achingly sweet.
When the kiss ends, he doesn’t back away but rests his forehead on mine as he speaks. “Library at one.” He lets out a breath. “When do I get to be the one to take you home? Why do I feel like I’m in competition with someone else for your trust? I thought maybe, after this weekend, I had it.”
When he backs away, his eyes rest on mine, intent and unwavering.
“There’s no competition. Miles is my friend.”
“Who gets to take you home.”
He doesn’t try to disguise the bitterness in his voice, and I can’t blame him. I never asked Griffin to let me in, to open himself to me like he has. He did it anyway, and I took what he gave without giving back.
“You’re right,” I say. “He gets to take me home because he always has. It’s second nature. I don’t have a car, so when I need a ride, Miles is there because he’s my friend. And you’re…you’re…” How do I come up with the words when this is all so new? What am I to him and him to me?