Chapter 18 Griffin
Griffin
I’m honestly pleasantly surprised when Griffin takes a seat next to me on the bus, which probably shouldn’t be surprising given that we’ve been talking more, texting more, and even grabbing lunch together but here we are.
He doesn’t say anything when he sits down and there’s this easy quiet between us that feels oddly comfortable.
Jacob is sitting up front with the coaches and I have to actively work not to steal glances at him like some creepy fucking stalker. It’s something I have been working on all week while I attempt, and fail, to deal with the feelings that are sitting on my fucking chest.
“Yo,” Mack’s voice calls out from behind the seats, and I glance over my shoulder, already bracing for whatever chaos he’s about to unleash into the bus atmosphere.
He’s smirking in this way that definitely means he’s about to spill tea in approximately the loudest, most inappropriate way imaginable.
“Did you hear about Jake and Danny?”
My stomach twists and I grimace, shaking my head like I want no part of the rumor mill tonight.
I saw them at that party, and thinking about that makes my blood pressure spike.
Thinking about the two of them dancing immediately leads me to thinking about Jacob’s lips on mine and his strong solid body pressed against the wall.
It makes my mind spiral into the sound he made while he pressed his hard cock against my fucking thigh.
Hughie snorts from beside me and responds without even glancing up from his phone. “What rumors are you talking about?”
That’s actually adorable in a way that makes me want to laugh because of course he’s unfazed; Hughie does not get rattled by gossip. And the only reason he is even responding is because his brother is part of the equation and the big fucker is overly protective of him.
Mack grins and then stares right into my fucking soul. “That Danny is obsessed and keeps asking around about Jake. He was talking to our buddy Shawn from basketball because, I guess, Jakey isn’t replying to his messages.”
Hughie raises a brow and nods, never once glancing up at us. “Yeah, he’s texted him like five fucking times daily since last weekend.”
That sentence lands like a minor impact in my chest and I look over at Hughie because five times daily? Really? I can barely respond to half my own texts in under a week, and this guy is out there perseverating like it’s spring training and someone stole his bat.
“Oh and I had to save Jake from Danny’s line of questioning in the training arena,” Mack continues on and despite the fact that I’m not looking at him I can feel his eyes on me.
Hughie looks up at me from his phone, eyes sliding over my expression with that quiet knowing gaze that always manages to make me feel seen. “Save him how?”
Mack doesn’t hear the tension but I do. Mack’s response has Hugh relaxing, “Oh nothing major. He was just attempting to get Jake to say there was someone else or some shit.”
I quickly turn my head out the window like the landscape suddenly became the most riveting thing to exist in human history.
Mack, blissfully unaware that he’s cornered my emotional state like an overly excited fucking puppy, goes right on.
“I’m not always into dudes,” he announces, absurdly loud, “but watching those two grind on each other was the perfect foreplay for me.”
Hughie lets out this exaggerated, fake gag. “Dude, come on. That’s my brother.”
“Step brother,” Mack corrects immediately, whispering so loudly that half the bus could’ve heard. “He’s hot.”
I can feel Hughie’s eyes on me again, his gaze steady and uncompromising, like he’s quietly gauging whether I’m dying on the inside.
But he doesn’t say anything to me about the likely constupated expression I’m sporting. Instead, he answers Mack with this calm, factual tone.
“He’s a good guy.”
I have to turn away from both of them because it feels like this entire conversation was meant to rile me up. It feels like Mack was pushing my buttons to see if Jake was the mystery guy I’m crushing on and it most definitely feels like Griffin knows more than he fucking should.
So instead of engaging further I just end up staring out the window at the blur of road and sky, trying my best to organize my thoughts into something remotely coherent, but goddamn it if I’m not still painfully aware of the entire fucking bus and where Jacob is sitting on it and whether or not he looked at me when everyone was gossiping about him and Danny and how in the hell I’m supposed to act like this is all fine and ordinary.
I tune them out and pull out my phone to check social media as if that will stop my brain from spiraling.
And there it is: a string of missed messages from Sabrina.
Of all fucking people.
I sigh and choke back an annoyed groan.
So seeing her messages now is like stepping in dog shit barefoot.
Sabrina: I cannot believe you cheated on me and now you think you can ignore me.
Sabrina: It was one kiss. I can forgive you.
Sabrina: Do you even want me to forgive you or is this your way of breaking up with me for good?
Sabrina: I’ve given you all of my time and love and you are just going to leave me.
Sabrina: I’m so disappointed in you.
I exhale slow and attempt to reign in my annoyance. I lean my head against the cool window, bracing myself against the reality that this is now.
I didn’t tell her who I kissed.
Not because I’m embarrassed but because I can literally imagine her dragging Jacob’s name through the mud the second she hears it.
I’m not okay with that. Not okay with him being weaponized against me in an argument, not okay with the idea of her using his name like ammunition to hurt me, and definitely not okay with him being hurt at all by her shitty words or actions.
So I lied by omission.
Which, if we’re being fucking honest, is humiliating in its own way but at least it’s not weaponizing someone who doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this drama.
Because yes, it was one kiss, and yes I fucked up. That much is true. I made out with someone I shouldn’t have. Or maybe it’s not about who but more about the fact that I should have respected the fact that I was still dating Sabrina, even if I didn’t want to be.
I honestly believed that telling her and ending our relationship would end her near constant whining.
I was relieved.
And that was what really startled me.
I like being in a relationship. I like the stability of it and the built in company.
I like dates and sex and the familiarity of routine.
It’s comfortable in a way I’ve always appreciated.
And yet, the moment she walked out part of me exhaled in relief like I’d been holding my breath for years without noticing.
Not because I didn’t care about her but because there was suddenly no obligation anymore. I didn’t have to respond to her text messages or plan out expensive dates or attend fucking parties.
I was just… free.
I had thought about messaging Jacob.
More than once.
My thumb had hovered over his name in my contacts so many goddamn times it was starting to feel like muscle memory. I wanted to talk to him. To check in and see if he was okay.
Fuck, I wanted to apologize. Sincerely, like an actual fucking adult for running out of there like I’d been caught doing something illegal. I wanted to ask him if he was mad at me, or if he hated me, or if, god forbid, he was as messed up over it as I was.
Mostly, I just wanted to see him again. I wanted to be around him. Not at the training center or the arena. I wanted him in my room, writing in his notebook or talking about whatever topic he wanted. I just wanted to hear his fucking voice.
But then I realized how stupid that was.
Because I had kissed him. Well…thrown myself at him, really. I had mauled him, kissed him like I owned him, and for a brief, white-hot second, it felt like everything in the universe had finally clicked into place.
And then I left.
Just… walked away. I guess it was more of running away like my ass was on fire. I didn’t explain and I definitely didn’t ask if he was okay.
I left him there like he didn’t mean anything. I let my shame swallow me whole. Let the panic win. Let the guilt of cheating, of crossing a line, of feeling something I didn’t understand, bury me so deep I couldn’t even send a goddamn message to the one person I actually wanted to talk to.
It was… a lot.
Too much.
Because now, even if I did message him, even if I said all the right things and begged for a do-over, I don’t know if I could handle whatever answer he gave me.
The rejection would ruin me.
And I don’t want to be that guy.
We get to the hotel late in the evening and I feel fucking exhausted.
Of course, for me, it’s also really nice being next to Hughie the whole way. He’s all quiet company and zero pressure to talk. I think it’s a goalie thing because he needs that quiet to just focus and prepare for our upcoming games.
And while we were on that bus I made a decision. A stupid, terrifying, possibly idiotic decision.
I was going to talk to Jacob.
I decided that I was going to apologize. Really apologize.
I’m attracted to him in a brutally, distractingly, painfully real way. He’s smart and funny and warm. He’s really a great man and I know that. Honestly, he’s probably one of the nicest people I know.
But I also know that I don’t deserve forgiveness for how I ran away and then ignored him.
So I resolve that I’m going to apologize and just… be his friend. Because that’s something I can hopefully handle without ruining everything.
Which is exactly why, when we get our room keys in the hotel lobby I pay attention to which room he’s in. I head to my shared room with Mack and drop off my stuff. I wait for Mack to hit the bathroom before I’m slipping out of our room without saying a fucking word.
And then…there I am, standing in the hallway, shoulders tense, palms sweating, just…waiting.