CHAPTER SIX #3
Self-doubts crash back into the moment, reminding me of where I stand.
I’m definitely imagining this intensity, projecting a one-sided fantasy.
Are you kidding yourself? Griffin Keegan and YOU?
I’m the last one he’d want to hook up with.
He has a list of at least a hundred other women, more beautiful and successful and fit than I am, ready to sleep with him any day of the week.
I slip my hand out of his, determined not to misread this situation. I don’t want to embarrass myself. Not when I’ve spent so much of my life being embarrassed for one reason or another.
“Maybe you’re an alien,” I say, trying to ignore the twist of my gut warning me of any number of missteps that I’m likely making right now. “That would explain why you can sprint so fast.”
“No, that’s just the Bulgarian split squats I do on the regular,” he says, leaning back into his chair. A gust of cool air reaches me, reminding me that it’s so much better being close to him.
“That’s exactly what an alien would say,” I tease.
“You want another beer?” He nods toward my empty can as he stands up. “I’m heading to the kitchen.”
“No, I think I’m okay.” I eye the hills of his biceps as he reaches for the sliding back door. “I don’t want to come anywhere near a hangover tomorrow when I go back to my parents’ house. Plus I’m feeling a little subpar in the health department around you…”
He arches a brow, leaning against the door. “How so?”
“Bulgarian split squats, crazy sprinting abilities”—I gesture at his general area—“and these muscles? Like can you bench press your own house or what?”
“Only upon request,” he replies coolly.
“I could probably stand to lay off the carbs, is what I’m saying.”
He squints at me like he’s trying to understand my words. “Casey, trust me when I say this. You don’t need to change a thing.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“So…no beer, right?” He pulls open the door, still watching me for confirmation. “Because you don’t want a hangover. Not because you think you need to change anything about your diet.”
“Right. Because my diet is staying the same and I will continue to not do Bulgarian split-squints. Squats. Whatever.”
Griffin smiles and heads inside. When he returns a few moments later, he’s got two bottles of water in his hand. He hands me one wordlessly and reclaims his spot in the chair beside me.
“Thanks.” I’m fighting a grin, because why is it so touching and hot when a man thinks of our needs?
“So your parents aren’t a fan of hangovers. Your sister isn’t a fan of your centerpiece recommendations.” He twists off the lid and takes a sip. “What else am I missing?”
“Oh, I could give you a very long list.” I match his movement and sip my water as well.
“But I’d probably need to get a beer for that one.
Let’s just hope my failings don’t deter a potential summer roommate.
I need to find someone with a spare room who wants money. And isn’t, like, a serial killer.”
Griff frowns. Apparently my joke didn’t land how I wanted.
“Statistically, though, there probably aren’t that many serial killers in Bayshore,” I say before sipping some water.
Griffin is watching me intensely, and I can’t figure out what’s going on inside his head. Just when I feel like the attention has become unbearable, he blurts out,
“Why don’t you just stay here for the summer?”
I choke a little on the water I just drank. “What?”
“Be my roommate till you move back to Chicago. How many weeks is that going to be…ten? Nine?”
“Griffin.” My mouth is open as I struggle to process this offer. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. You could stay in the spare room. I wouldn’t even charge you rent.”
Now I’m stunned and growing more emotional by the second. This is a major offer. Huge. And I feel like I don’t deserve such a lucky break. “That is way too generous. I couldn’t possibly—”
“It wouldn’t be a bother, I promise. I mean, you’ve spent the night before, you’re going to spend the night again tonight.
And probably other nights, now that we’ve gotten into the B-movie sleaze.
But you decide. There’s no pressure. I just feel like it makes sense.
I have the space, you have the need, and we’re lifelong friends.
I don’t think you’re gonna rob me in the middle of the night.
Plus, it’ll give me peace of mind to know you’re not living with a secret serial killer. ”
My head is swimming. I want to blurt out OMG YES! but I feel like the smart thing to do is wait and think it over. I already know Griffin would be an incredible roommate. I just worry about the part I don’t want to admit out loud: I’m secretly in love with him.
Moving in with him would mean I’d have to see the puck bunnies come in and out.
He’d see the parts of me that make me hard to be around. My messiness and all the other parts my family can’t stand. The parts Jake couldn’t stand.
“I’ll think it over,” I finally say around the lump in my throat. “I have a lot of thoughts, but I should sleep on it, at least.”
“Definitely think it over.” Griffin offers me an easy smile before he takes another swig of his water.
He’s so sweet. Thoughtful. Successful. Painfully hot.
I do want to live with him. That’s not even a question.
The issue is that I want so much more from him than that.