17. Blair

H oly mother of God, my brain is trying to break through my skull. Every step down the stairs is agonizing, and I think I might die if I don't drink ten gallons of water right this second.

"Ughhh." I massage my temples.

This is my first real hangover, and I never want to experience it again. I've never let myself lose control, not like I did last night. Oh my God, I cannot believe I let that happen.

Small moments flash in my mind, and right as I try to grab on to them and home in on the memories, they're gone.

Starting at the beginning of the party, I have a pretty good memory. I remember how surprised I was to walk into the living room and see Griffin on the couch. Especially since only hours before, he had no plan of attending until I mentioned it. Seems rather coincidental.

I remember the baseball guy who was a bit flirty with me. I also remember Griffin running him off, which was entertaining, to say the least. The energy was a bit weird, and Griffin was insulting him for being a creep, and I don't know if the guy even realized it.

And oh my God.

He said he knew I was going and wouldn't let me go alone. Did he mean that? Or was he just keeping the ruse going a little longer so that guy would leave me alone?

My cheeks warm at the thought that Griffin came to that party just for me. Because if he did just go for me, then that means … more? More than simply warden and prisoner. More than student and tutor. More than friends . Although I think we might have been more all along, even if we didn't know it.

Stop. You're being ridiculous.

He can go to the party for his own reasons and happen to scare that guy away for completely platonic reasons and then platonically kiss my forehead.

I smack into someone hard as I turn into the kitchen. "Shit."

"Good morning, my little prisoner," Griffin's smooth voice sings in my ears with an undertone of humor.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I open them again and meet Griffin's dazzling gaze. "You do this a lot? Party?"

He bursts out laughing. "Having a bit of a rough morning? And, no, not if I can help it."

Closing my eyes to avoid the humiliation and bright lights, I groan. "I don't know why anyone would do this. Ever. I am never touching alcohol ever again, I swear. "

Peeking out of one eye, I see him grinning from ear to ear, and I open my other eye.

"Is my suffering amusing to you?" I grumble.

He holds my gaze, studying me kindly before mumbling, "Not at all. But I can't help but be slightly entertained, thinking of last night. I can't say I've ever seen you so … loose?"

Loose? Oh God, what did I do last night?

An image of Griffin looking down at me, only inches from my face, flashes in my mind, warming my body by a thousand degrees.

Did we kiss? Did we …

"How much of last night do you actually remember?" he asks curiously, leaning against the wall and crossing his ankles.

Racking my brain, I look away and scour as many pieces of the party as I can recall.

That one dude Griffin didn't like—I think his name was Josh.

Griffin watching me with hunger in his eyes.

My stomach twists as the next memory filters in.

Grant. Grant was there too.

My heart races. He grabbed me. And then Griffin ripped him off of me.

And then … I tried to kiss him.

Oh God.

My eyes widen and fly to his.

Griffin chuckles. "Is that you remembering throwing yourself at me?"

Snapping my stare his way, I scoff, "I would hardly say I threw myself at you. That's a bit of an exaggeration. "

He shrugs. "That's not how I remember it. I could barely fight you off."

Cocking my head to the side, I cross my arms and step closer to him. "You are so full of it. I didn't even try to kiss you. I wouldn't have."

Lie . I remember that now, clear as day. I wanted nothing more than to feel his soft lips against mine.

He squints his eyes at me. "Oh, really?"

In one quick movement, he grabs me by the waist, pushes me against the wall, and pins my arms above my head, lowering his face to mine. His warm, minty breath hits me in waves, and I sharply inhale.

"You didn't want to kiss me? Not at all?" His words are pure lust on my lips, beckoning me closer to him.

Rolling my eyes, I glance away from him. But he adjusts my hands, now pinning them with one hand, and catches my chin with the other, forcing me to look back at him.

I pop the P . "Nope."

He bites down on his lip and stares into my eyes with such searing intensity that I'm scared I'm going to melt into the wall behind me.

The air around us thickens with tension, like every fiber and dust in the air freezes and anxiously waits for one of us to move, pausing to see who moves first.

"In fact, I barely like you at all," I tell him, unable to keep the smirk from kicking up on my lips, killing my poker face.

"Really? What don't you like about me, Blair?" he asks, closing the distance between us even more.

My body is practically shuddering from his proximity .

Licking my lips, I keep a straight and stern face as I list all the things I downright hate about him. "For one, you are funny. It's distracting, and I very much dislike distractions. Two, you're good at English, but for some reason, you're holding yourself back. Three, you're a hockey player, and the ego is ridiculously enlarged. Four, you're annoyingly hot, and sometimes, it's hard to look away. Another distraction. In total, you are really just a pain in my ass."

"Blair …" His voice, deep and husky, causes tingles to radiate from my head to my toes, pulsing from deep in my core. "I didn't know you had such a disdain for me. Should I list all of the reasons I don't like you?"

His lips are an inch from mine, and my chest is rising and falling so fast that I'm practically panting. Maybe I was throwing myself at him last night because I feel like I'm about to do it all over again.

Slowly, I shake my head. "I think I'd rather not know everything you hate about me."

He smirks. "That's a shame."

His hand grazes my waist, his delicate touch threatening my restraint. I suck in a breath at the contact, and he freezes long enough for me to tell him to stop. But I don't.

His fingers trail up and then down my rib cage until he grabs on to my hip and pulls me flush against him.

Can this level of excitement cause a heart attack? I think I might be close to it.

"Because I have so many things I would like to tell you. Countless reasons why I definitely one thousand percent don't like you. "

I gulp.

"Like how you always wear one of those cute little bows in your hair when you style half of it up. How you get lost in your books, completely entranced by a good scene that you drift away to another world. Or how you bite down on your lip when you're concentrating on something."

I do not do the lip thing. Right? Oh my God, I think I do. No one has ever pointed that out to me before. And he's noticed my hair ribbons?

I had no idea he paid that much attention to me.

He pauses, and his eyes drop to my lips. My back arches slightly, pressing into him further, and a soft, whimper-like noise leaves me as I feel how perfectly we fit together.

"Wow. You really hate me, huh?" My voice is breathy and desperate, as I'm starved for his touch and his kiss.

His brows furrow, and he whispers, " So much."

He tilts his head ever so slightly, and when his lips graze mine, a shock electrifies my entire body, every hair and nerve on edge.

"Blair?" Lumi's voice drops a bomb on our moment, and I jump back. "Oh shit. Oh God." He winces as he turns into the kitchen and finds us nearly kissing. "Ahh! Pretend I wasn't here. I'm so sorry!"

"Lumi?" His name is a whisper on my lips as I wonder what the hell he's doing here. But I quickly push the thought out of my mind.

He scurries away, and we burst out laughing into a fit of giggles and smiles .

My heart still thumps loudly in my chest as Griffin pulls away, releasing my hands from above my head.

"I-I'd better go get ready for class." My words are a stuttering mess, and I lower my arms.

His face twists in confusion. "You're actually going this morning?"

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

The oven beeps, and he walks over to it and grabs an oven mitt as he says, "Because you are hungover as fuck and should chill in bed and rest."

I take a few steps to the cabinets and grab a glass. "Well, that's not going to help me keep my perfect grades," I say as I wander to the fridge and fill my glass up with nice cold water.

He pulls a muffin pan out of the oven, and the delicious scent of chocolaty, buttery goodness wafts my way, my stomach rumbling in response.

"I am going to owe Mrs. Potts my life for making chocolate chip muffins. My favorite." I swoon and scurry over to the hot pan, eyeballing up the one that I want.

Griffin rubs the back of his neck and leans against the kitchen island. "She didn't make them."

"Well, if she didn't, then who …" I trail off and look at him.

Griffin looks away shyly, his voice barely audible. "I did."

"You can bake?" I snap, my words racing past my lips in shock.

He glares at me playfully. "Funny. And, yes, I'm an excellent baker. Mrs. Potts taught me."

"Mmm. Good to know. Add it to my list of things I hate about you. I'm trying to keep a good figure, and you make delicious sweet treats. Not a good combo." I spin around, smiling, and focus on the muffins. "Come on, little buddy. You are all mine."

Popping the hot-as-hell muffin out of the tin, I put it on a paper towel and hold it gently, like my most prized possession. Although, in about ten seconds, I'm going to devour it.

I walk over to Griffin before I can stop myself, stand up on my tiptoes, and kiss him on the cheek before genuinely saying, "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome," he whispers softly and swallows hard, the apple of his throat bobbing.

As I pull away, I find his cheeks deepening into a pretty red flush, and I memorize the image of a shy Griffin who looks so cute when flustered.

Without saying anything else, I begin walking out of the room, but Griffin stops me.

"Do you guys want to get Lumi's car before class? I'm free for about an hour after if you want to wait too."

"Wait, what?" I ask. "Lumi's car?"

He nods. "Yeah. You both drank like pirates last night, and I wasn't letting either of you get behind the wheel, so I brought you home."

I don't remember that at all.

My brain feels like mush for so many reasons right now, and it's hard to think straight. "I'll ask Lumi and see what he wants to do."

"Sounds good," he answers before pushing off of the island and walking out of the kitchen on the other side of the room, and I can't help the smile spreading onto my lips.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I check the time—seven a.m. We usually have to leave by eight forty-five a.m. to get to class. I'd better start getting ready, especially if we are going to get the car beforehand.

After curling loose waves into my hair and doing my makeup, I pin half of my hair up and add a black ribbon. For no particular reason. Just another day. Definitely not because some hockey player says he likes them.

Lumi is ready about an hour before me, and he decides to wander downstairs. When I'm finally ready, I take one last look in the mirror, suddenly nervous about walking out of the room. Do I look cute? Is this a good outfit?

I picked out black tights, a black suede skirt, and a cream oversize sweater. I'm going to wear some black booties with it.

No, this is cute, for sure. Stop doubting yourself. You never have before.

Yeah, well, I wasn't trying to impress someone before.

Grabbing my backpack, I throw it on before I talk myself into changing.

As I get downstairs, I find Griffin and Lumi waiting by the door for me. Silent . Both of them staring at me like I caught them talking about something I wasn't supposed to hear.

"What's up?" I ask awkwardly.

Lumi shakes his head aggressively, and Griffin mumbles, "Nothing. Ready? "

"Yeah … you guys are being weird," I tell them as I walk to the door, and Griffin pulls it open for me.

"Because we are weird." Lumi laughs, and Griffin looks at him questioningly.

Trying to ignore that it seems like they have a secret now that I am not a part of, I go to the truck and hop into the passenger front seat.

Griffin gets in and starts the truck, and Lumi jumps in the back.

I wonder what we will cover in class today. Speaking of class, I ask, "Have you been working on your paper? Can I look over it yet?"

Griffin wrings his hands on the wheel. "Yeah, and no."

"Yeah, you've been working on it, and, no, I can't see it? Or, no, you haven't been working on it, and, yes, I can see the blank docs?" I ramble.

"The first one. I'm not very far with it though."

"So then, can I read what you have so far?" My curiosity is overwhelming, and I'm desperate to know more about him.

"No. Definitely not. It's not ready," he says, leaving no room for argument. His secrecy makes me want to read it even more. "Digging up memories and feelings, talking about life, and all my dreams for the future—it just feels so forced, and I hate it. Maybe one day, you can read it, but just not yet."

"Okay, deal," I agree, not wanting to push him further than he's comfortable.

A light bulb goes off in my head on how I can learn more about The Beast himself. I remember the project I did when I started my paper to help me come up with ideas.

Opening my backpack, I pull out my laptop and quickly find the document I'm looking for.

"What are you doing?" Griffin asks as he pulls out of the driveway.

Hitting Send on an email to him, I sigh proudly. "Being the best tutor in the world. I just sent you an assignment. I'll need it back by the end of the day. It's for extra credit for Dr. Schrute."

"What? I want extra credit!" Lumi protests from the back seat.

"Sorry, only for students who are getting tutoring," I lie, wishing he could read my mind so he knew that the extra credit doesn't exist.

"Sweet, thanks!" Griffin says, and my heart twists slightly.

I don't love lying to him, that's for sure. But even if he doesn't send it back to me, it will help him more than he knows. It's basically an outline for his final paper. So, in the end, it'll be worth it, and if he does share it with me, then I'll be able to discover more about him.

Shutting my laptop and zipping it into my bag, I feel a light tug at my hair.

As I sit up, I see Griffin reaching across the middle console.

With his eyes on the road, he murmurs, "Nice bow."

Nice bow. Tell me why it's been hours since he uttered those words to me, and I still can't stop replaying them over and over in my mind. Along with what happened in the kitchen. When did everything shift between us? Was it gradually over time, or was there a singular moment that changed us?

I don't know. But I do know that for the first time, I struggled to focus in class today. I couldn't think of anything aside from Griffin in the seat next to me.

Oh God, what is happening to me? Am I broken? Is this some form of Stockholm syndrome? Regardless, I don't really care what it is. I just need to decide if I like it or not.

I mean, of course I like it, but do I want it to continue, or do I want to end whatever is growing between Griffin and me?

Initially, he wanted me as his tutor because I wasn't into him. But now, it seems like he doesn't mind the idea of me liking him; in fact, he seems to be encouraging it more than anything.

I would say he's testing me, but I know he's not. I could see that clear as day in how he looked at me in the kitchen this morning.

Ugh . I need to get out of my head and focus on my homework.

Hopping up onto my bed, I empty my backpack and organize my books and notebooks. Looking at my planner, I decide what to work on first. Let's do math. There's no emotion in math. No messy, sexy, wet hair that hangs over stunning hazel eyes. No firm chest and mouthwatering body. It's just numbers and logic. Easy.

Grabbing my notebook, I set it next to me and open my laptop, pulling up the assignment for tonight and getting to work.

My stomach grumbles sometime later, and I check my laptop to see what time it is—eight p.m. I've been doing homework for six straight hours, and now, I'm starving.

Pushing my laptop away, I lean back and stretch my legs out, feeling the stiffness from sitting crisscross for hours ease out of my muscles.

Knock. Knock.

My heart skips a beat.

"Come in," I call out and sit back up as the doorknob twists and the door swings open.

Dear God, no one should be allowed to look that good with wet hair, sweats, a Legends hoodie, and a backward cap. It's ridiculous really, how some people are just gifted with those genes.

"What's up?" I greet him, leaning back on the palms of my hands and crossing my ankles in front of me.

Lifting a packet of paper into the air, he walks over to me and sits beside me on the bed. "Turning in my homework assignment."

Shit.

"How was practice?" I ask, avoiding talking about the fake assignment I gave him.

He stretches his neck from side to side. "It was good. "

Nodding, I flash a smile. "Oh, well, that's good."

I've felt terrible about this all day. I shouldn't have lied to him about the questionnaire.

"Griffin, I have to tell you something." I sit up and return to my crisscross position, clasping my hands in my lap and avoiding his gaze.

He laughs and reaches out, brushing my knee with his hand, pointing at the stack of papers in my lap. "Are you going to tell me that this isn't for extra credit? Because I already know."

I snap my eyes to his as my face drains of warmth, and I extend my legs out in front of me. "What do you mean?"

He leans on his side, bending over my shins, and makes these torturous little circles on my knee. "I went to Dr. Schrute."

"Oh no." The words fall from my lips.

"Oh yes . I wanted to find out exactly how long I had to finish this, but he had no idea what I was talking about."

Glancing at the packet, I see every single question on the top page filled in. He reaches over and grabs it, pulling it away from me.

"You can have this on one condition."

Looking back up at him, I whisper, "And what's that?"

He smirks. "You never lie to me again."

The guilt clenching around my heart like a tight fist is reason enough to agree to his term.

"I really am sorry about that. I got a bit carried away. I just wanted to know more about you," I admit. "You might not get extra credit for it from Dr. Schrute, but you get a few bonus points in my book. "

"I suppose it wasn't a waste of time after all," he murmurs.

Then, I see it—the glisten in his eyes, the part of his lips, the softness in his gaze, the quickness of his breath, and the way he isn't just looking at me, but seeing me as I am at my core.

The words are barely audible as I say, "I won't lie to you again, I promise."

He sets the packet back in my lap with care.

Tucking the papers against my chest, I hold them close, not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind.

"Thank you," I whisper and look into his eyes, showing him how much this means to me.

"You're welcome. And please …" He hesitates, and the look that flashes in his eyes is one of helpless fear. "Please don't share it with anyone."

Reaching my hand out, I place it over his, wanting to give him a sense of comfort and assurance. "I promise."

He grins and takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Thank you for giving this to me." I stroke the back of his hand with my thumb.

He looks down at where we touch and stares at our hands intently. "Blair …"

Wetting my lips, I study him and see how his chest rises faster and faster with each second. He is made of hard lines and sharp features, but at this moment, I see the softness of his lips, the golden flecks in his eyes, the gentleness in his gaze. His jaw is clenching and unclenching as he seems to be fighting a war inside his mind, and he looks away from me .

"Griffin …" I whisper, and his eyes fly to mine.

I could get lost in his gaze for eternity.

Silence settles between us as invisible strings seem to tug us toward one another. He's looking at me like he's drowning and I'm the breath of air that will save him.

Quickly, he pushes himself off of the bed and stands up. "I should, umm … get going. You have work to do. Good night, Blair," he whispers to me before turning on his heel and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him before I can even respond, leaving me utterly breathless.

A guttural scream tears through the house, twisting my stomach into knots, and I fly to my feet with my book in my hand.

It sounded like … Griffin.

"Ahh!" Griffin cries out again, and I rush to my door, hovering my hand above the handle for a second before throwing the door open, preparing to come face-to-face with anything.

Griffin screams again, quieter this time, but still just as heartbreaking. It's coming from his room.

Twisting his doorknob, I rush into his room without a second thought. It could be an intruder. I grip my book tighter in my hand, prepared to wield it as a weapon.

But I don't think that will be necessary.

Griffin's bare chest is rapidly rising and falling as he thrashes in his sheets, asleep in his bed. He must be having a nightmare. Perhaps I should let myself out and leave him be.

"Ugh!" His deep voice startles me as another scream slashes through the silence.

Striding over to the side of his bed, I murmur his name. "Griffin."

He doesn't react, so I say it a little louder, this time gently reaching out and wiggling his shoulder. "Griffin."

His eyes fly open and land on me. I gasp at the look in his eyes, the utter terror and sadness stretched into every feature. It's startling compared to his usually composed demeanor.

"Hey, you were just having a bad dream," I whisper softly.

He blinks the emotion away, and the haze in his eyes clears as he comes back to reality.

"Blair?" His voice cracks.

"Hi. I'm sorry for intruding. You were …"

"Screaming?" He fills the word in for me.

I nod.

"I'm sorry for distracting you," he apologizes, and my heart aches.

"There's no need. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," I say.

He nods and sits up in bed, resting his back against the headboard. "I'm fine." His eyes flick down to the book in my hand. "What are you reading?"

" The Wicked Truth ," I answer, flashing him the earthy-green cover .

Rocking back and forth on my heels, I glance at the door, and his stare mimics mine. "I should let you rest."

As I turn away, his hand flies out and catches my wrist. "Stay."

"What?" My gaze flies to his face.

He's still staring at the door. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to look into mine and clears his throat. "Will you read to me?"

His thumb brushes over the sensitive skin on my wrist, and I whisper, "Yes."

The faintest glimpse of a grin lifts his lips as he slides over in the bed and pats the spot at his side. Sitting on top of the covers, I rest the book in my lap and open it to the page I was on and begin reading.

I feel his gaze burning into me as I recite chapter after chapter of the hauntingly beautiful story to a beautiful, haunted boy until he falls deep asleep. Then, I return to my room and bury myself under my covers with a smile on my face.

In all the time I've spent with Griffin, I've seen the versions of himself that he presents to the world. To his team and friends, he is The Beast, a renowned hockey player with a successful future ahead of him.

I've seen the version of himself that he puts on display for Chip and Mrs. Potts, one that's strong, fearless, and happy. The one he wants them to see so they don't worry about him.

But in the silence, in the moments when he thinks no one is looking, I've seen the real him. The one who has nightmares and finds comfort in being read to. The one who makes a damn good chocolate chip muffin. He is the one who is a friend to everyone, but no one really gets close to him. He keeps them at a distance. Well, everyone besides me.

I've seen him open up more with Malik, and I do not doubt that that's his best friend. But I can see that he keeps him just far enough away to not see behind the curtain.