11. Blair

I 've never felt this level of anger and frustration before.

"I'm sorry!" Griffin pleads, which only pisses me off more.

Placing my hands on his bare, stupidly defined chest, I shove him as hard as I can. "You being sorry means nothing to me right now!"

"Oh, the little reader's got some spice!" The black-haired and purple-eyed guy I recognize from class whistles behind me, and I begin to question how hard disposing of a body might be.

Griffin's eyes flick up, and he glares at Malik with a look that runs a shiver down my spine.

"Come with me. Let's talk in my truck." Griffin directs his attention back at me, and I wonder how men have such audacity.

Are they born with it? Or is it a skill they acquire over time? Regardless, it's baffling .

I can't even look at him right now, I am so angry. "I'm not going to go talk with you in your truck, Griffin. And good luck with your classes. You're going to need to find another tutor."

Fuck, I really shouldn't have done that. I can't afford to lose that job too.

But, God, Griffin's look of defeat and shock is a little worth it. He deserves to feel as helpless as I do right now.

"I'll pay you more! Name your price, and it's yours," Griffin counters, and I hate that I don't have a choice but to accept.

Purple-Eyes cuts through the silence. "Ooh, do you get dances for the extra money? If so, can I schedule some tutoring sessions with you too, Blair?"

"Malik," Griffin deeply snaps, silencing him immediately.

I never wanted to dance in the first place, and now, it's being thrown in my face like some kind of joke.

Without a word, I stride past Griffin and try to distance myself from them as much as possible.

"Blair, please stop. Let me fix this," Griffin pleads as he catches up to me with ease. "Please."

"No. I think you've already done enough, don't you?" I snap.

Griffin slides his finger beneath my chin and lifts my face up to him, but I turn away. "What can I do?"

"Leave me alone," I retort, staring at his chest.

"No can do. I need you." His voice is soft, and I hate that part of me falls for it—that charm that all jocks use to manipulate people.

"You don't understand, Griffin; you can't possibly realize the damage you just caused me." My throat tightens as the back of my eyes burn.

I can't help but to think of my dad and how much he needs help right now or the bills on the fridge that still need to be paid for the month.

He cups my face and brushes my cheeks with his thumbs. "Then, tell me, please."

Closing my eyes, I have no choice but to tell him the truth because I'm afraid he's the only person who can make this better. "You didn't cost me some job. You cost me my house payment, electricity, my tuition … my father's treatment. I worked full-time there because I had to keep the heat on in our home and still go to school. You just ruined my life and didn't even realize it."

"Look at me," he whispers and tilts my head up. "I said I wanted to fix it, and I'm going to. I promise." His eyes light up. "How about a new business deal?"

"Like what?" I ask, scared it might actually include occasional dances from the gleam in his eyes.

"I'll pay for everything," he says casually, like he isn't offering to give me hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Feeling doubtful of his good intentions, I ask, "And why would you want to do that?"

"Because making it to the pro league is all that I care about, and I can't do it if I'm failing my classes and benched from playing." He hesitates and licks his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth. "I will give you everything you need and want in exchange for one simple thing."

"And what's that?" My voice trembles.

He smirks. "You move in with me for the remainder of the semester so that whenever I need your help, you're there to assist me. My little live-in tutor."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. I can't live with you! I barely know you!" I scoff, completely taken aback by his offer.

I can't just move in with Griffin Hawthorne. That's literally insane.

"That's my offer. I'll pay for everything you need. You underestimate my love for hockey and the amount of money I have. You might need the money, but I desperately need you."

My cheeks warm at how his voice softens when he says he needs me, although I know he needs my brain, which is kind of ironic if you think about it because usually, guys want to use you for your body, not for your mind. Regardless, right now, he doesn't deserve to make me blush.

The brushing of his thumbs slows down, and if I wasn't gloriously pissed off at him, I would find it cute. But right now, his touch is only making me angrier.

Backing out of his grasp, I sigh. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" His brows furrow, like he's confused as to why I could somehow not be jumping at his offer.

I cross my arms over my chest. "Yes, Griffin! I don't know if I can move in with a practical stranger and agree to live with him for months so that he can use my brain whenever he pleases in exchange for money. What if you're secretly a serial killer or something? These are things that have to be considered!"

He chuckles, and I squint my eyes at him, wiping the smug smile off of his face .

"I'm not a killer."

"That's exactly what one would say, don't you think?" I snark at him.

"Okay, fair. But I promise you I'm not." He steps closer, and I back away again.

"Did you know I worked here? Did you do this on purpose so you could manipulate me into being your kidnapped tutor?" Each word makes me realize how horrible of a possibility that is.

What if this was his plan all along?

He throws his hands in the air. "Are you crazy? Of course I didn't plan this! How could you even think that?"

"Because I don't know you, and now, it seems like everything is working out for you, but I suppose when you have enough money to throw around, all of your problems disappear, right?"

He leans down, and his warm breath hits my face as his demeanor turns cold. "I have enough money to burn it for fun, but it doesn't make my demons any weaker or my loneliness any less agonizing. You're right. You don't know me at all."

I'm exhausted and defeated, and I don't want to do this anymore. I've figured it out on my own for this long, and I'll do it again.

Holding his stare, I murmur, "Goodbye, Griffin."

I turn around and walk away from him, determined to walk home in these heels and his T-shirt at this point.

"Where are you going?" I hear his heavy steps follow me, and I can't resist rolling my eyes. "Dear God, let me drive you home."

"No, thank you," I sing .

"Stop being so stubborn, Blair! Let me give you a ride," he begs. "Please."

My feet are already killing me, and I'm twenty miles from my house. Slowly, I turn around with defeat etched into my face and a slump in my shoulders.

"Blair!" Erica, aka Tia, calls out to me from the club, and I just now realize how far we have wandered from the entrance.

Waving to her, I say, "I'm coming!"

Malik and the other guy walk over to her, and she smiles up at them.

He says something to her, and she voluntarily hands over my purse and backpack.

"Hey!" I shout at them, and Malik laughs.

"Don't worry; everything's in safe hands," he says reassuringly.

My pace quickens, and as I pass Griffin, he reaches his hand out, and his fingers graze my side, but I ignore him.

"Girl, I am going to miss you." Erica frowns.

Taking a deep breath for the first time in the last hour, I throw my arms around her, feeling the shirt lift above my ass.

She pulls me in tightly and kisses my cheek as she releases me. "Coffee date soon?"

I nod. "Yes, please."

Margo's head pops through the door, and she yells, "Erica, we need you back in here. Chat with her when you're not on the clock."

She ducks back inside, and I grumble, "Was she always such a hard-ass?"

Erica laughs. "When you're not on her good side? Yes. See you later, B."

"Bye," I practically whisper as I fully come to terms with what just happened and realize that I will miss working with some of the staff.

It's hard not to build relationships with the people around you, especially when you're stuck with them for hours at a time. I don't think I ever appreciated how much I'd come to care for them until now, knowing that I'll never have potlucks with them in the back room, bathroom parties before our shifts, or dance lessons on the slow nights. It's all just gone now.

"She's a cutie," Malik says into my ear, and I drop my elbow backward into his side as I spin around. His eyes light up, and he says, "Griffin, I like this one. Would you be willing to share?"

Griffin strolls up, and a coolness whips through the air. His nostrils flare, and his chest heaves as he stomps beside me and slides a hand around my waist. "No. She's already spoken for."

Forcing myself out of Griffin's tight grasp, I groan. "Oh my God, can we stop with the pissing contest? Break out the rulers already, and we'll see who's bigger."

"No need to do that, sweetheart. Mine's bigger." Malik winks.

"Good for you, buddy. Now, give me my stuff," I demand, holding my hands out.

Malik and Griffin apparently solve the pissing match they were knee-deep in not a second ago. Now, they are smiling at each other, making me feel like prey stuck between two oversize predators .

"Here you go," Malik says, holding my stuff out toward me.

I reach for it, and he yanks it away and tosses it to Griffin.

You have got to be kidding me.

"Griffin," I scold him like the child he is acting like. "Give me my shit."

"After I give you a ride home, it's all yours." He smiles proudly about finding a new way to make me go along with his plan.

I wish I could say no and call an Uber. But if my dad is awake, he can't exactly catch me coming home in a metallic-gold bikini set, a T-shirt, and heels. I need my bag.

"Fine, you win. Let's get this over with." I sigh and feel the slightest twinge of relaxation settle into my shoulders, knowing this night is almost over.

"Right this way." Griffin beams.

With my arms crossed, I follow him.

"Good night, Blair!" Malik calls out sweetly.

Lifting my hand up, I flip him off and hold it in the air for him to see clearly.

He and the other guy burst out laughing.

Silence surrounds us as we walk to the car. Griffin opens the door for me and holds his hand out to help me into his truck. Taking his hand, I hop onto the leather seat, and he closes the door behind me.

He slides into the driver's seat and starts the truck. He presses some buttons, and moments later, my backside warms up from the heated seat.

"Thank you," I force out with a grunt .

He types into his phone and then holds it out for me. "I need your address."

I take the phone and enter it in the Maps app before handing it back to him.

"What kind of music do you like?" Griffin asks as he pulls out of the parking space.

"Doesn't matter to me. Anything's fine," I answer and lean my head against the window.

He turns the volume on the radio up, and Taylor Swift's "Love Story" plays softly through the speakers.

I don't know what it is about music, but I swear it always makes me feel every emotion I'm trying to ignore. And right now, the floodgates have opened, drowning me in agony.

I'm so tired, tired of trying to stretch every second of every day so I can make enough money to just survive. Until now, I don't think that I've even allowed myself to feel the burnout that's been there for quite a while.

My chest heaves, and a sob breaks free. I lean further into the window, hoping Griffin didn't notice. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything, so I assume that he didn't hear.

He hums along to "Love Story," and as mad and drained as I am, I can't help but grin at the fact that he knows the song.

My eyes shut, and I drift into sleep for just a few minutes, where my problems fade away. But the serenity doesn't last long.

Griffin nudges my shoulder, and I sit up, my eyes dry.

"We're here," he announces.

Mindlessly digging in my backpack, I pull out my leggings. Kicking my heels off, I slide the leggings on and step into my tennis shoes, stowing the heels in my bag.

I slide my backpack on and throw my purse over my shoulder.

"My deal still stands, but I need an answer as soon as possible in case I have to start at square one again and find another tutor," he says before opening his door and stepping out.

What in the hell is he doing? He walks around the front of the truck, but I open it and hop down to the ground before he can reach the door.

I don't have anything left to say to him right now, and all I want is to crawl into bed and pretend this night never happened.

Griffin laughs as I step past him and head to my house.

"Good night, Blair," he calls out.

With the least effort required, I force a response. "Night."

With the stealth I've acquired from the countless nights of entering the house at late hours, I go inside silently, shutting the door behind me.

I tiptoe down the hallway toward my room.

The most aggressive cough I've ever heard roars from my father's bedroom, and my heart breaks. How can I help him now without my job?

My eyes well up as I hear my father settle back down. I take the last few steps to my room and sneak inside, dropping my bags next to my desk.

Flopping onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling and contemplate how I got here. I wouldn't need extra money if I had just gotten a full scholarship. If my dad hadn't been stuck at those damn factories for years, maybe he wouldn't have gotten lung cancer. What-ifs continue to bounce through my mind, but I know they are pointless. No what-if will solve all of my problems.

I hate that I have no other choice at this point. In order to ensure my dad gets his treatment and I get to stay in school, I have to make a deal with The Beast.

Sliding off of my bed, I dig my phone out of my purse and text him.

Fine. We have a deal. But you must promise that my dad will be taken care of, no matter what.

Bubbles appear before his text comes through.

Griffin: I promise far more than that.

Tossing my phone on the bed, I quickly change into PJs, throwing Griffin's T-shirt and the rest of my outfit in the laundry bin.

My phone dings. Once. Twice. Three times.

What else does he have to say tonight?

Shutting my light off, I grab my phone and expect to see Griffin's name appear. Somehow, a worse fate has found me.

Grant: I can't believe you let him touch you like that. I know that dance was only for me. What a pleasant surprise from you, my Blair Bear .

Attachments load immediately, and I gasp at what I see. Photos of me thrown over Griffin's shoulder at The Fallen Petal tonight.

That fucking prick. I didn't even notice him there. Usually, I can feel his presence like a hand choking my throat.

I can't handle anything else tonight. I feel like a bomb; everything is burning the fuse, and I'm about to blow.

I am not yours, Grant. Get it through that thick skull of yours. Leave me alone!

Grant: I love this game we play, Blair Bear.