24. Griffin
I t’s after midnight when he finally stumbles into his room, drunk off his ass, forcing me upright.
Aurora went to bed with Everest a couple of hours ago, when it was clear he wasn’t coming home again.
Or so we thought . Me however? I couldn’t sleep, not after what he told us, I can’t even fucking eat after his confession at his mother’s funeral.
Just the thought of her is evoking a rage inside of me like I’ve never known.
She abused him, she abused her own fucking son, and I missed all the fucking warning signs.
I watch as he dumps his bag at the door, before he fumbles with his phone and keys, dropping them atop his desk at the same time he knocks into it, cursing beneath his breath.
The sound of his voice used to delight me, every time he felt comfortable enough to speak to me I felt like I was on top of the fucking world.
Now I know the reason behind his silence, his curse feels like a whipped lash against my spine.
“You’re home late,” I grunt, startling him a little, as his eyes snap to mine through the darkness of his bedroom.
The only light pouring in is through his open curtains, since he always likes to sleep with them open. I guess now I know why.
Harden narrows his eyes as he takes in my place between his sheets, before he reaches over his head and pulls off his shirt. “Didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” he snaps back, his voice void of any emotion, and the sound of it squeezes my heart in a vice.
He’s talking, I should be proud, so why do I feel sick at the sound of it?
I sit up and turn on the lamp on his bedside table.
Do you want to talk? I sign in question, and he actually snorts at my question, as he kicks off his shoes.
No I don’t want to fucking talk, Griff, so if that’s why you’re here you can fuck off. He signs back, as if I haven’t been here worried sick about him for two fucking days.
“I’m here because you’re my friend and I fucking care about you,” I snap back, tossing his sheets aside and climbing from his bed, and his eyes dance down my bare torso, before quickly looking away.
Where’s Aurora? He signs back instead of responding to me, and now I almost snort, because even at his bold question in the middle of the fucking night he would still try and deny his need for her.
“She’s next door in Ever’s bed,” I reply, watching him carefully as I add, “Probably finally getting fucked by him.”
He doesn’t flinch as his eyes snap back to mine. Well don’t let me stop you from joining them . He signs, gesturing toward his bedroom door, as if he isn’t as desperate for that scenario as I am.
“What the hell is your problem, Haze?” I spit, erasing the space between us.
“You mean besides the obvious,” he grits before thinking, and both of us pause, staring at one another, before he takes a step back and begins to sign again. Right now you’re my problem, you’re here all the time.
I scoff. “Well shit, sorry for being fucking worried about you.”
Is he kidding me? He confesses the most sickening thing I could ever imagine, then disappears for two fucking days, and I’m his problem?
Me, Everest, and Aurora have been going out of our fucking minds trying to find him, scared we might find him dead in a ditch somewhere, and this is how he reacts.
I’m fine. He signs the two words and they taste like ash on my tongue.
How many times has he said them, signed them, and I just accepted it as fact?
“That’s your problem, Haze, you’re always fucking fine,” I huff, swiping my hands down my face, the exhaustion setting in now I know he’s home and safe. “You know I don’t have to be here, I could be anywhere else right now,” I tell him, when truth be told, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here.
You know where the door is. His response has me staring at him in disbelief, taking in the bags under his eyes that I know match my own.
I know he’s going through it right now, that he’s been going through it more than I ever could have imagined, but still his attitude pisses me off.
“God you really are the most fucking infuriating person I have ever met.”
Right back at you Griff. He fires back, his hands moving swiftly, as he drops down onto the edge of his bed, his head dropping into his hands.
“Really? That’s the thanks I get for trying to support you?
” I ask, stepping toward him, but when I take in the sadness that has always clung to him like a second skin, guilt wracks my entire body.
I drop to my knees and sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, okay.
I’m sorry I didn’t look harder at what was going on, I’m sorry I didn’t stop it from happening. ”
“Don’t fucking apologize for her,” he spits, his head snapping up until his stare collides with mine.
“I’m not apologizing for that piece of shit,” I grit through my teeth, wishing I could dig her up from her fresh fucking grave and make her pay again.
If I knew who killed her I’d fucking thank them.
“I’m apologizing for me, because I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.
” His stare searches mine, and the pain behind it undoes me completely.
I wish I could reach out and touch him, wish I could pull him into my arms and shield him from any more pain.
“I’m just sorry, Harden, whether you want me to be or not, and I wish there was something I could do to take it all away. ”
The words have barely left my mouth before he is slamming his lips against mine, and every other thought in my head evaporates.
He’s kissing me, my best friend is kissing me, and I freeze completely as his mouth moves against my own.
I’ve never kissed a guy before, never even thought about it, but this isn’t just any guy, it’s Harden, and it feels the opposite of wrong.
I’ve kissed probably a hundred girls, all of them not worth remembering, aside from Aurora, and I know from kissing her what it feels like to truly enjoy it. So why does this kiss feel the exact same? Why do my best friends’ lips both taste like salvation?
Before my body has a chance to catch up with my head, Harden abruptly pulls away. “Fuck, Griff, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that,” he rushes out, jumping off his bed and stumbling away from me. “Fuck,” he shouts, his voice raw and fucking perfect, and my cock comes to life in my shorts.
He stumbles back toward his door, no doubt to rip it open and ask me to leave, but I move on instinct, grabbing him and pushing him into the back of it.
Then I kiss him, and my entire world turns on its axis.
He reacts instantly, a low groan slipping from the back of his throat in surprise, and I use it to force my tongue past his lips until I can tangle it with his.
His lips are hard and firm and taste like whiskey, and I can’t get enough.
Fuck he tastes perfect, and my cock twitches, not caring that it’s for my best friend, no, the only thing I seem to care about is the taste of him on my tongue.
My hands reach up to cup his face, desperate for more, but he freezes, ripping his mouth away from mine.
I open my mouth, to say what, I’m not sure, but most likely to beg him to kiss me again, but instead he grips my shoulders, pushing me away from him, then spinning us until he can slam me back into the door.
His confused and lust-drenched stare meets mine, his chest heaving, as he searches my eyes for an answer, but I don’t have one, not for this.
I know what he’s thinking, it’s the same thing I’m thinking, what the fuck are we doing here, but I don’t know what we’re doing, I only know it feels right.
My tongue darts out, licking the remnants of our kiss from my lips in disbelief, and his eyes drop down and track the movement. His stare on me elicits something I can’t describe, let alone fathom. He’s my best friend, he’s a fucking guy, so why am I desperate for him to kiss me again?
I lean forward to erase the space between us, but his hand flies out and grips my throat, collaring me in place against his door in warning.
“Harden,” I gasp in desperation, which quickly turns to a groan, as his fingers squeeze around my neck roughly, again trying to send a warning, but he may as well be waving a red flag in front of a bull.
I want him, my body is screaming for him, and I don’t care that it doesn’t make any sense.
Pushing against his hold, it forces his fingers tighter around my throat, making his eyes darken as he watches me. “Griff,” he warns, and no word has ever sounded so fucking perfect before. It’s filled with pain and regret, and so much lust that I want to fucking drown in it.
“Kiss me again, please,” I beg, needing to see if it tastes just as perfect the third time round, and the restraint he was clinging to evaporates.
His lips are back on mine in an instant, and heat ripples through me as the hand around my throat flexes and squeezes in tandem with his mouth.
His tongue tangles with mine, as his other hand flexes around my hip, pulling me against him, as his body presses me harder into the door.
His kiss isn’t soft or gentle, it’s rough, forceful, and the reasons why drag me into submission, letting him use me for whatever he needs.
If he wants pain he can have it, if he wants pleasure he can have it, and if he wants me, he can fucking take me.
He kisses like a suffocating man searching for air, and fuck do I want to be his damn oxygen.
When he rips himself away from me again, I groan in outrage, pushing against the hand still around my throat, desperately seeking more, finding his stare on me completely black.
I’m not stupid, I know the war that is waging inside of him, the same way I know that this is probably the first time he has kissed anyone since he was fourteen and he gave in to Aurora.
That thought shouldn’t delight me, shouldn't turn me on, but my cock leaks beneath my shorts, desperate for him to keep giving in to me.