Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
RAINE
I t’s raining when I step outside. And not a little sprinkle, either. Like, buckets of icy sleet I have no doubt is a full-blown blizzard at the cabin. Tucking my notebook into my jacket, I dash toward Griffin’s car and yank the passenger door open.
“Hey,” I greet him.
He doesn’t bother looking at me. His sole focus is on his phone until he tosses it into the backseat like it personally offended him. Then, after a grumbled, “Hey,” he grabs the back of my seat and turns around to face the rear bumper as he pulls out of the parking spot in front of Etch ‘N’ Ink.
“Is everything okay?” I ask carefully.
We haven’t really spoken since our game of Spin the Bottle . Even when he dropped Everett off after he was jumped, we barely said two words to each other. To be fair, we’ve never really talked, and I’m not sure if it’s because he respects my situation and doesn’t want to overstep his bounds or if it’s because I’m kind of sort of dating his best friend, whom I’ve only brought trouble to from the very beginning. Well trouble and orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms. Add in the fact Everett asked him to pick me up and drive me to the duplex until Everett finishes helping his mom with something, and I’m basically a bundle of nerves.
“Thanks for picking me up, by the way,” I add.
His jaw clenches as he turns back in his seat, facing the windshield and driving toward the main road. “No problem.”
A minute passes, and I suck my lips between my teeth. “Listen, about Spin the Bottle , I’m sorry if?—”
He chuckles darkly. “What happens at game night stays at game night.”
The windshield wipers pick up their pace, and I twist my hands in my lap, surprised by how quickly he shut me down. “Right.”
“Besides, it’s all good. It was only a kiss.”
I nod but stay quiet.
“I’m sorry I’m acting like I have a stick up my ass,” he continues. “There was no hot water after the game, and…” His eyes fall to the backseat where his phone still rests. His eyes return to the road in an instant. Nostrils flaring, he adds, “Can I ask you something?”
My brows hitch, and my head bobs again, making me feel like a bobblehead. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Do you wish your friends would’ve stepped in?”
Blindsided, I jolt back. “What?”
“When Drake started acting like an ass,” he explains. “Do you wish your friends or family would’ve stepped in?”
I open my mouth to answer, but he barrels right past waiting for my response.
“Or better yet, did you even see them? The signs?” he questions. “Or were you really so disconnected from everything you thought the red flags were normal relationship shit?”
“Are you asking about my experience or…are we talking about someone else? Hypothetically,” I rush out .
He gives me the side eye. “Fin wants to cut me out of her life all because her fucker of a boyfriend told her to.”
My nose wrinkles as I watch the wipers move back and forth, squeaking with every pass. So this is about Finley. I should’ve known. But seeing Griffin like this? Distracted and lost in his own head? It’s…well, it’s a little confusing because, from what I’ve been told, Griffin and Finley are only friends. Or at least, they were until her boyfriend drew a line in the sand.
Unsure what to say, I admit, “She, uh, she might’ve mentioned it to me, yes.”
“And?” He glances at me again. “It doesn’t seem messed up to you?”
“I mean, yes,” I offer. “It’s a little messed up, but?—”
“Do you know if he told her to cut anyone else out? Like Mav or Reeves or…anyone?”
I lift a shoulder, hating the position I find myself in and how distraught Griffin is because of it. I’ve never gotten this vibe from him. He’s always so laid back. So easy-going. Pretty sure Griffin is the definition of Golden Retriever energy, yet here he is, looking closer to a Rottweiler.
“Just you,” I admit.
His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. “That’s what I thought.”
“I’m sure he’ll cool down and let it go,” I add. “Just give it some time, you know?”
Griffin scoffs. “Yeah, I thought so, too, but she hasn’t answered any of my texts since the bar.”
Shit.
Not exactly a good sign. No wonder he was giving his phone the death glare when I climbed in.
“Do you like her?” I whisper. Maybe it’s a stupid question, and maybe I shouldn’t even ask, but stepping into a friend group as close-knit as this one makes me feel like I’m ten steps behind. Like there are dynamics and relationships right below the surface, making each scenario hard to read. Like this one. Finley and Griffin. Griff has been so busy with hockey and…who knows what…that we haven’t really gotten to know each other. Hell, we’ve barely talked. He’s the quiet one of the group. The thinker. The one easily overlooked. And for some reason, it makes me more curious than ever. Honestly, he couldn’t be more opposite to Finley if he tried. Even their complexions are different. Light brown hair with gold highlights and tan skin to Finley’s dark brown, almost black hair with pale, ivory skin. He’s tall. She’s short. He’s quiet and observant. She’s loud and impulsive. He eats, sleeps, and breathes hockey, and she couldn’t care less about the sport.
His silence is deafening, though. It makes me squirm in my seat and pick at my nails until I can’t help but give into my own impulsiveness and add, “Let me rephrase. Does Drew have a reason to be wary of your relationship with Fin?”
He presses his forefinger to his temple, rubbing in slow, small circles like he’s fighting an impending headache, and states the obvious. “She’s Everett’s little sister.”
“Not exactly an answer,” I point out.
“I think she deserves better.”
“Someone like you?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. We wouldn’t be good for each other.”
My brows lift. “Why not?”
“For one, she’s Everett’s little sister.”
“You mentioned that.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Seriously, how did I not see it before? One, that this guy is absolutely adorable, and two, that he’s clearly in love with Finley. Curious, I push, “What does Ev have to do with it?”
His full lips are nothing but a slash of white as Griffin turns down the road toward the duplex. He’s still in his head. Still overthinking. Still going crazy. Scrubbing his hand over his messy hair, he finally says, “He’s protective of the people he cares about.”
“Yet he’s fine with Finley dating Drew,” I point out. “Which, as you’ve already alluded to, is problematic because Drew has a few red flags, right?”
“Finley’s stubborn,” Griff argues. “And Ev’s been distracted lately.” His eyes find mine again. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I reply.
“I don’t think Drew’s good for her, but I also don’t think it’s my place to throw a fit about it, especially after the shit she pulled at the bar. If I do say something, I have a feeling they’ll look at me like you are.”
“And how am I looking at you?” I ask.
“Like I’m a pathetic, lovesick puppy.” He pulls into the driveway and shuts his car off. “I’m only thinking of Fin, is all.”
“I think Fin can take care of herself,” I reply, carefully. “And if—or when ,” I emphasize, “she realizes Drew isn’t the one for her, she’ll come back around. She has to.”
He nods slowly, his eyes glazed. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
Reaching for the door handle, I add, “Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for the therapy session,” he quips, giving me a full-blown, contagious lopsided grin.
Oh, yeah, Fin. You’re in trouble.