What If (If Only.... #2)(61)

“I’m what?” he asks, the hint of a teasing smile on his lips.

That’s all the encouragement I need. “More,” I say without looking away. “You’re—more. And letting you take me home means I have to be ready for that. I need to gear up to it, okay?”

A full grin takes over his features. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll take more.”

I jump at the sound of knuckles rapping against glass and turn to see Miles outside my window. I open the door, and he greets us with an apology.

“I’m covering a shift this evening and need to get back to the shop. Otherwise I wouldn’t, you know…”

“No problem, man,” Griffin says. “Let me get her bag.”

We all know the gesture is unnecessary, with Miles and me already headed to the trunk, but no one mentions it. No one stops us from one more minute of good-bye. And when Griffin hoists my bag from the truck, Miles grabs it before I can.

“I got it,” he says to Griffin and then turns to me. “If I didn’t have a shift…”

“Don’t apologize again,” I say. “I’ll be there in a sec. Thank you—for coming to get me.”

Miles nods, his soft smile an unspoken I’m sorry regardless of my request. When he heads toward his car, I close my eyes and let out a long breath. A beat to collect myself. A small pause to decide to get out of my head and into the moment. When I pivot back to Griffin, an easy grin is all it takes for me to rise on my toes and crush my lips to his, nothing gentle about it.

“Ow,” he says, laughter mixed with genuine but hopefully minor pain. He brings a hand to his lip, and his finger comes away with a tiny smear of red.

“Shit. Leave it to me to seize the moment and draw blood instead.”

His brows rise. “Seize the moment?”

“Shit,” I say again. “That wasn’t my inner monologue? My stupid inner monologue I decided not to listen to, and look how that turned out.” I huff out a breath. “Yes. Seize the moment. I wanted to kiss you one more time, and normally I’d over think it, tell myself why I shouldn’t kiss you again, that twice in the car should be enough, that I don’t want to give you the wrong idea, that I’m not even sure what the right idea is. I just—I wanted to kiss you. So I did, and now we can add drawing blood to my list of fails for the weekend.”

I cross my arms, and he laughs. A car horn gives a tentative honk, and I look past Griffin to find Miles’s eyes on mine. That honk is meant for me.

“Pippi,” Griffin says, his palms finding the small of my back, pressing me into the diminishing space between us. “At this point, you couldn’t fail me if you tried. I’m too far gone, migraine or not, vampire or not.”

Despite my annoyance—my fear—I let him finish the kiss, let his tongue slip gently into my mouth while the taste of him consumes me straight down to my toes.

Another honk of the horn, this one not holding back.

“I…I have to go. Monday.”

“Monday,” he says. “Though I’m not sure I can wait that long. I could come over tomorrow, tide us over until the library.”

“Monday,” I repeat.

I back toward Miles in his car, Griffin’s eyes on mine the whole time. When Miles and I pull away, I give voice to those silent words.

“I’m going to tell him,” I say, and Miles’s face loses the intensity it wore when I first got in the car. I thought it was because he was going to be late for work, but it was for me.

“Things went well, I take it?”

I shake my head, huffing out a laugh. “No. I mean, that’s not entirely true. At first it was perfect, the drive there—the hotel room.”

I study Miles’s profile as he drives, a dark brow rising along with the corner of his mouth.

“His friends were great, but there I was with this girl, the girl. Like, the one person he’s fallen for, ever. She was with her boyfriend, and they’re clearly in love, like bonkers in love, and they were all celebrating Duncan and Elaina’s engagement with champagne, and the energy was crazy and charged, and I wanted to be a part of it, to show Griffin I could be a part of it, and…”

I stop for a breath as Miles brakes at a red light, not sure if I’m making any sense. When he shifts his eyes in my direction, I flinch at his darkened irises, at the immediate disappearance of his previous grin.

“Maggie, please tell me you didn’t drink.”

Because I can’t give him the answer he wants, I look away and say nothing at all. We drive the last couple minutes to my place in silence.

Miles shifts the car into park but doesn’t turn it off, so I release my seat belt and open the door to leave.

“You can’t fault me for trying, Miles. And for f*ck’s sake, you better not judge me for it, either.” At this I twist to face him again, and he blinks, his dark eyes closing and opening in what seems like slow motion.

Finally he says something, his tone soft and careful. “I’m not judging you, Maggie. I’m trying to make you see you don’t have to play a role. You’re not the same person you were three years ago. But guess what? I still love you. Because the real you is in here.”

He rests his palm over my heart, and I roll my eyes despite his gesture tugging at my insides. I guess Griffin’s not the only master of deflection. Miles is the closest person in my life other than my grandmother, yet I hold him at a distance, too—self-preservation as much as it is my attempt to keep him safe as well.