12. Griffin
My cheeks hurt from all the smiling, but it warms my heart to see this room so full. Every seat is occupied with people who are playing various games on the computers. Some doing well, while others are dying left and right, but they don’t seem to mind.
People who have come up to me and asked for a photo or autograph have been fairly respectful. They don’t encroach on my space or spew inappropriate comments like “I want your babies,” which somehow surprises me. It’s been a lot of “You’re a huge inspiration to me, Griffin” and “I’m really excited to see an Asian hockey player.” Maybe Lydia was onto something. Was I too stubborn to see things through?
I lose track of how many people I’ve spoken to, but it’s probably in the hundreds at this point. The open house is over, but people are still waiting in line to see me, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone by ending the event, especially when there might be more opportunities for Lydia to receive more donations.
Sigh. Lydia. I peer over at her every once in a while at how beautiful she looks in that blazer and corset combo. She’s dressed up more than her usual casual flair, complete with a sensational shade of dark pink lipstick that I want to kiss right off. She’s calmed down since I first got here, and she’s so entrenched in conversation that she doesn’t even notice that I’ve been staring at her for the past few minutes. I really shouldn’t have kissed her. It was on the cheek, but still. My lips tingled on her skin, and I’ve dug myself in so deep that every little move she makes fills me with a rush. I resist the urge to rub my hand over the hard-on forming in my pants.
Finally, after hours of smiles and standing, the line ends, and we’re allowed to clean up and turn off the computers.
“Wow,” Lydia says as she’s scrolling through her laptop. “We raised ten thousand dollars today.”
“Really? That’s amazing!”
“Yeah,” she whispers quietly. “Really is.”
Her face looks sad, and I’m confused about why that is.
“Everything okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Everything’s fine.”
“You don’t seem fine,” I tell her. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” Her voice raises, and it jolts me for a moment. It doesn’t seem like nothing, and now I’m starting to get frustrated that she won’t tell me what’s going on.
“Your tone sounds otherwise,” I retort back.
She rolls her eyes at me. “I can’t even tell you what’s wrong because you’re not going to even think it’s your fault, and I’m really trying not to blame you, but it’s just...I can’t do it.”
“Blame me for what? What did I do?”
“You...exist, Griffin!”
I...exist? When did that become a problem for her?
“I’m sorry, I’m just...frustrated? I guess? I know I shouldn’t be complaining. I’m happy you’re here, and I’m really thankful you took time out of your busy life to meet all these people, but I’m just thinking that if you had left the room at any stage tonight, the swarm would have followed you. And it made me realize that...I put in all this hard work, but without you, it all would have gone to waste. I’m nobody when I’m in the same circle as you.” Tears begin streaming down her face, and I instinctively rush to wrap my arms around her, even if there is no one around. It’s what I’d do for any friend.
“Lydia,” I say, rubbing her back to comfort her. “You are not nothing. You’re the farthest thing from nothing.” You’re amazing and one of the hardest-working people I’ve met, and I’m really starting to feel a deep connection with you. That’s what I want to tell her.
I rest my chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry. If my being here made you upset.”
“No,” she reassures me. “I don’t want you to be sorry. And that’s why I hate that I feel like this. It’s just that I work hard to prove myself as a woman, and it makes me wonder whether anyone would give me the time of day if it was just me running this show.”
“If they don’t,” I tell her, looking into her eyes. “Then they’re making a mistake. Because you’re one of the most hard-working people I know.”
“Thank you.” She rests her face on my chest, and I pull her in tighter to me. “You did an amazing job with all those people. I really appreciate it. How do you feel?”
“Surprisingly, it was pretty easy. People were very calm, which makes me realize...have I been freaking out for no reason?”
“I wouldn’t say no reason,” Lydia notes. “I think it just depends on the environment. We’re at a school during the day versus after a hockey game, where people can be really riled up. I mean, aren’t there fights that happen after the game between fans?”
“Yeah, fights happen.” I don’t see it, but hockey games are notorious for fights between fans. Maybe because they see the players fight, and so it makes them want to. Or a lot of drinking. That could very well be the reason too.
Lydia breaks away from our hug to do a once over of the room. After we’ve checked that every computer has been turned off and chairs have been tucked in, she puts her computer into her backpack and leads me to the door.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” she asks, pulling on the handle to make sure the door’s locked.
“No,” I shake my head. Maybe playing games alone, but I think about asking if she wants to play games with me. I’m not sure if that will bring up any sour memories, though. “Why?”
“Well, as a thank you for helping me out today, can I buy you dinner?”
“Ah.” Our first time out together, just because. She has an eager grin on her face, and I don’t want to turn down her offer. I mean, dinner with her sounds perfect, but typically, when I go out somewhere, I try to see if I can get a private area. I don’t know where she’s thinking of going to eat, but a little part of me dreads that it’s somewhere busy because it feels like a lot of the popular restaurants in San Jose are packed to the brim at five o’clock on a Saturday.
“Okay, sure. Sounds great. Where are you thinking?”
“Well, I’m the one treating you, so wherever you want.”
I’m trying to think of what I might be craving, but then I realize I crave a lot of the same things: ramen, dumplings, pizza. Oh, tacos. I run through my list of staples in San Jose, and I think that I’m overdue for a helping of dumplings, but I want to make sure that it’d be okay with Lydia.
“Do you like dumplings?”
She responds by laughing in my face, and I don’t know if laughing back is an appropriate response, but I do.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“You asked if I like dumplings, Griffin. Rule number one is yes. I like dumplings.”
I relax my shoulders. Shit, I thought I had ruffled another feather, and I would be stuck trying to figure out how to apologize.
“But Landon and I had dumplings the other day. So it’s not like I don’t want it, but...”
“It hasn’t been that long of a time to go without it,” I reply. “Yeah, I know what you mean. So let’s do what you want. I trust your cravings.”
“I feel like we share similar interests in food, which is most foods.” she tells me. “There’s a cute French spot not too far away in downtown Los Gatos. It’s kind of small, I like it. Makes it feel intimate.”
“French food?” Gonna be honest, that cuisine is not one I’d immediately think of when I told Lydia to suggest something. I know her favorite cuisine is Chinese food, and if she could eat one food for the rest of her life, it’d be wonton noodle soup. But if she has a good restaurant recommendation, I’ll trust she knows where to go.
“Yeah.” She tilts her head. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I nod over-enthusiastically. “It’s totally fine. I didn’t mean to sound so unsure. I just don’t remember the last time I’ve had French food.”
“You know, it’s been a while for me too. But we’ll go to this place sometimes for department holiday dinners. It’s a nice treat.”
“Okay.” I open my hand out her for to lead the way. She suggests that we take one car to the restaurant, so we don’t have to worry about parking.
We drive out of the hills where campus is and through some windy roads until we reach downtown. Like many downtown areas, it has one main street with a bunch of small shops and restaurants. There’s a mix of small businesses and more well-known companies, and truthfully, you know when you’re in a high-income town like Los Gatos when your options for furniture buying come in the form of a Restoration Hardware.
Lydia finds a place for us to park. We get out of her car, and are seated almost immediately in the restaurant. Lydia’s right, it is a cute French bistro-style spot that doesn’t have many chairs and tables, but each one is filled, and above each one are cute photos of France and different cookware hanging from the walls.
We are handed menus, and Lydia gives it a quick once over before closing the menu and placing it down.
“We should order a bottle of wine, right? It feels fitting for the occasion. But if you’re not feeling wine, then we don’t have to order it. I was just thinking because it fits the ambiance.”
I chuckle. She is really cute when she rambles. “We can get a bottle of wine to share. I think you deserve it after the day you’ve had.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
The menu has a good variety of things for us to feast on. I know it might be the most basic thing I can get, but I could absolutely go for a steak Frites right now.
“How about escargot?” she asks.
I wince. Now this, I’m not completely sure about. In the grand scheme of things, escargot doesn’t sound all that weird. Sure, it’s snail. But people have the same visceral reaction to different sashimi. Especially uni. And I absolutely love uni.
“Never had it,” I tell her.
“Would you like to try?”
I shrug. “Why not? Have you?”
“Oh yeah,” she nods. “It’s so good. When you’re tasting it, you don’t even realize that you’re eating snail. They season it with a bunch of herbs and butter that make it as good as it is.”
“Well then, let’s try it out.”
We tell the waiter our order, and promptly after he puts it in, a legit sommelier comes over for us to try the wine. Lydia motions for me to take the first sip of a bold Cabernet he’s chosen for us because we’ve each opted for dark meat meals. I take a sip and instantly smile over the rich flavor.
“It’s good,” I tell him.
“Wonderful,” he says, pouring a full glass for each of us.
The elegant atmosphere and service truly makes me feel like we’re on a date. This is the kind of effort that should be put into trying to impress someone. If we chose a restaurant based on the fact that we’re just friends, then I would have been okay with hot chicken sandwiches, even though those aren’t very cheap anymore.
“This is nice,” I tell Lydia. “I haven’t had a chance to sit down and enjoy a nice meal in a while.”
“Really? Do you not go out to restaurants super often?”
I shake my head. “I’ve always had fears that I’d be bombarded by fans during my meal, and I just resigned myself to only eating at home. I’d disguise myself in a hoodie and hat and then just sit at home and eat by myself.”
“That...sounds so sad,” she frowns. “I mean, I’m sorry if that sounds really judgmental. I don’t know if I could do it. As much as I don’t like talking to people, I like the times when I can go out, let loose, and enjoy a nicely cooked meal.”
“Well, I think it’s a little different for me because people can recognize me.”
“Oh yeah,” she whispers. “Sorry, again,” she says, taking another sip of her wine. “I kind of forgot for a moment that you’re famous. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing...because you’re just like anyone else for me. I don’t see you as someone famous.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “I’m not mad at you. I get that it’s hard to understand all the feelings associated with being a famous person. But you know something funny? I think that today was a step in the right direction for me—actually being tolerant of talking to people. I really enjoyed the kids and students coming up to me and mentioning how much they look up to me.” It was a nice change from the DMs that tell me I’m a total babe or something along those lines.
I might always have fears of how people are going to react, but I have to remember that certain people do really look up to me and think I’m an inspiration, and I have to remember that their adoration for me really trumps any fear that I might have that someone will come up to me and take advantage of me for whatever reason.”
“That’s great,” Lydia grins. “So you’d say that this was a success? The talking to people and getting out of your shell for my personal gain?”
“I think it benefitted both of us, for sure.” I smile. I can tell that Lydia’s warmed up since we’ve left campus. She’s got a lightness to her, and as she continues to sip on her glass of wine, she’s starting to feel more relaxed and letting loose a little bit, which makes me happy.
The waiter returns to our table and puts out a dish with small holes in it. I’m guessing this is the escargot. The obvious giveaway is that these individual bites are all encased in the snail shell still, but what intrigues me is that you can’t see what the inside looks like. There’s a lot of that pesto-looking sauce covering it.
“So, how do we eat it?” I ask Lydia once the waiter disappears.
“You grab the...tongs?” she says, picking up these small baby tongs with little saucers at the end of it. “And hold the shell with this, and with this,” she holds up a small fork, “you grab the actual meat from the shell.”
She slurps up the snail from its shell and starts chewing. “Oh yeah,” she says, covering her mouth. “That is so good.”
“Really?” I’m still feeling a little hesitant from looking at the literal snail shell that’s in front of me.
“Just...you really can’t taste the meat because the sauce is so good,” she says. “Try it.”
I follow the motions she made, grabbing the shell, twisting the meat inside like I would for an oyster, and slurping the snail up. The texture of it is rather slimy, but it’s very easy to chew and swallow. Lydia’s right. The sauce is what makes this good, and if you fixate on the buttery, pesto-like sauce, then it really doesn’t feel like you’re eating snail at all.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“I do really like the sauce. The snail itself, is fine. Actually, the texture doesn’t really bother me all that much.” Dare I say, I think I would get this again if I ever go to a French restaurant.
“Oh good,” she beams. “I was a little afraid that I was pressuring you to try something that you might think is gross.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely not gross. I could slurp up this sauce all day, and I think I’ll be just fine.”
She giggles, and I smile back at her. Even if she doesn’t think this is a date, this is definitely the most intimate we’ve been thus far, and I’m really enjoying it. I don’t feel stressed, and I’m perfectly content being in Lydia’s company. So content, in fact, that I want this night to last forever.
Our meals come out, and I’m enjoying every last nibble of my steak frites while Lydia’s eating her scallops, which look just as appetizing.
“So,” I ask. “I don’t know if you ever told me how you got into esports.”
“Have I not?” Her eyebrows perk up, and she bites her lip for a moment. “It’s not actually that exciting of a story. Landon and I used to play video games all the time, and I wasn’t good by any means, but I liked playing them. When I was a student at LGU, I was trying my best to get involved in everything I could because I wanted to get the full college experience. One day, I just showed up to Esports Club and asked to join.”
“Oh yeah?” I nod. “How did that go?”
“It went as I expected. Sexist men who tried to convince me that I didn’t really belong. But, I didn’t back down and I ended up becoming the Vice President of Recruitment. Ironic, huh? That girl that everyone was so skeptical of when she first walked through the door ended up making such a huge impact. I got more people to join that weren’t just men and actually left with a lot of friends. That guy that was so skeptical of me at first? I ended up hooking up with him not too long after that.”
I almost choke on a fry with the thought of Lydia with another man. She’s not...still hung up on him, right? This wasn’t a story to tell me that she’s actually using this fake relationship to get him back, right?
“Oh, you did?”
“Yeah, but that was like ten years ago. He’s very much married with a child now. But it was fun in my wild college days. You had to have wild college days too? I would be so surprised if you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I’d be lying if I said they weren’t wild.” I don’t know how I calmed down from the high of being a top hockey athlete and the partying that came with it to be recruited into the NHL. Lots of hungover mornings to only have history repeat itself.
“I’m lucky that I made it out with a spot in the NHL. There was a point where it felt like I was on thin ice, ironic as that sounds. I was throwing these huge ass parties, getting drunk every time, and paying absolutely no attention to my grades. I was so close to being on probation and losing my scholarship.”
Lydia looks shocked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” It was a bad part of my life that I wish I could redo. But you know what they say, everything happens for a reason, and it did serve as a good learning opportunity to absolutely never do that shit again. “I learned pretty quickly after that, with my spot on the team dangling over my head, to not make that same mistake again.”
We finish up our meal, and I almost reach to pay for the check, but Lydia keeps her eyes on it and snatches it before I do.
“I told you that it was my treat!” she says, putting her credit card in the folio.
“I know, but I can still be nice and treat you for doing such a good job fundraising.”
She blushes. “Well, maybe I’ll let you get the next one. Maybe. I guarantee you in a week, I’m gonna want those dumplings.”
“And I’d be happy to treat you to those.”
She goes quiet for a moment after that, and I’m having trouble reading her expression. Does she not like my responses because they sound like they’re laced with a bit of flirting?
We head back to campus without saying much on the journey back. She pulls back into the parking lot of campus, near the student union.
“Where’d you park?” she asks. “I can walk you back to your car. I realized I forgot something in the esports room, so I have to head back inside anyway.”
“Oh, I didn’t park too far away, just a few rows back. I...can walk with you to the student union if you’d like?”
“Um...yeah. Sure.”
We walk up to the student union, my hand itching to find its way to her lower back.A man dressed in a suit and holding a glass of wine beams at us as we enter the building.
“Lydia!” He holds his arms out, and Lydia, puzzled at first, walks up and takes him in a side hug. “And you must be Griffin,” he says to me. “I’m so excited to be meeting Lydia’s rather famous boyfriend.”
“Yes, nice to meet you as well...um...Mr...”
“Dr. Jones,” he says, emphasizing the doctor part. He grabs a hold of my hand and shakes it with both of his, “Vice President of Student Life.”
“Dr. Jones,” I nod. Lydia’s boss. I look over, and Lydia looks anxious to try and get out of this. I wonder if she has a poor opinion of her boss. Like if he’s hard on her and makes her job even more stressful than it already is with everything else going on.
“We were just coming to grab something from the computer room,” Lydia says. She grabs onto my hand and squeezes it like she’s clinging on for life, then pulls me in the direction of the computer room
“Oh, well, do you have a moment, Lydia? Just for a quick chat since your boyfriend is with you.”
“Um...of course, Dr. Jones. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to talk to you about the open house today. Amazing to hear that Mr. Markey helped with showcasing the computer room. I heard that you made a bit of money in donations today.”
“Yeah,” she confirms. “We did.”
“Good work. Although, I think it would have been easier to have your boyfriend assist with that fundraising.”
What is he talking about?
“I...just figured I would have my computer out during the open house. You know, as protocol. To give people an option.”
“I understand,” Dr. Jones smiles. “Well, I’m sure lots of people really appreciated meeting Mr. Markey. I’ll leave you to it then, enjoy your night. Good to meet you, Mr. Markey.”
“You as well.” I nod while being pulled by Lydia, who is speed walking through the hall to the room.
“Lydia, Lydia!” I try and meet her pace. She quickly unlocks the door and rushes to grab something from her office.
“Lydia,” I barricade the door with my body so she isn’t able to skirt by me to get out. “What did Dr. Jones mean by assisting with the fundraising?”
“I don’t know!” She looks away from me and fumbles, trying to get her purse on her shoulder. “That was the first time I’d heard about that...weird fundraising thing...”
“Lydia, don’t lie to me.” I’m starting to get frustrated that she’s not telling me the truth about what just happened. “I think we’re past that point of you hiding things from me.”
“And I think that there are things that I don’t need to tell you. It’s not like you mean something to me or anything,” she retorts. She tries to use her petite body to get through a small opening between me and the door, and I grab a hold of her waist to stop her.
“You don’t mean that,” I grit out. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”
We’re inches apart. So close that I’m almost kissing her forehead.
“No,” she says, her eyes downturned.
“What is it that you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, Lydia.”
“We are,” she sniffs. “But there are things I’m allowed to keep to myself, and this is one of them. I’m not getting you involved with this, even if Dr. Jones wants you to be.”
“Are you in trouble?” I hold my hands on her shoulders. “Please tell me if you need help.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me. I don’t care how long it takes. I will do this all night.”
“Fine.” She wipes her eyes. “But you have to promise me that you’ll let me take care of it. I refuse to let you be responsible for something that concerns me and my job. I’ve reached a point where I care about you too much to let you get this involved with me.”
She sets down her bag and takes a deep breath. “A few days ago, Dr. Jones told me that the president of the university told him that esports was ‘too big of a gamble’ to invest in. So unless I fundraise a hundred thousand dollars by the end of the year, the Esports Department is basically going to be defunct.”
I start blinking rapidly when it dawns on me. “Wait, but then that means...”
“Yeah,” she chokes out. “If the department shuts down, I’ll lose my job.”
“Let me help you.” I rush out. “What, you need ninety thousand dollars? I can wire that amount as soon as I get home...”
“No!” she yells. “No! This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I’m not taking the easy way out, and I’m not letting you spend this much money on me. I’m not worth it. I can’t ask you to make such a big financial decision. I made ten thousand today, and what? There’s like...six months left to go? I can do it. I’ll raise the rest of the money. Don’t worry.”
“Lydia.” I want her to know that she is worth it. She’s worth so much more than the money that’s in my bank account. I would drop anything to give her what she needs.
She slings her purse over her shoulder and wiggles her way past me now that I’ve let go of her. “I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Lydia,” I grab her hand. “Please let me help.”
“No, just...forget it, Griffin. I’m not letting you do this. Not for me.”
She races off, and all I can do is watch her disappear from the windows of the room. What can I do to get her to change her mind about this?