33. Griffin
Y ou’d think after almost two weeks of getting out of class and practice, and a weekend clubbing in New York, that I’d be laid back, relaxed, content even.
Yet as I watch my best friend lift twice his fucking body weight on the bench press, sweat slick on his muscular stomach, I’m anything but.
Harden and I haven’t spoken about what happened on Saturday, because of course we haven’t.
Harden Haze never wants to fucking talk about anything.
The horrors of his childhood? Absolutely not.
His feelings for Aurora? No way.
Our hot as fuck jerk off session that left my head spinning? Not likely.
The guy is a fucking vault of epic proportions, and where I used to understand that about him, admire it even, now it’s just pissing me the fuck off.
How can he just be laying over there, bench pressing his afternoon away like nothing fucking happened?
We had Aurora sandwiched between us while I made her come.
We jerked off to the sound of her being fucked by Everest and each other until we came.
We fucking slept in the same bed yet again, with his body so close to fucking mine that I drifted off to the god damn smell of him. And what? Still he has nothing to say.
Isn’t he confused? Intrigued? Fucking turned on?
I know I am.
I kissed my best friend. I kissed him and I liked it. We jerked off together in the dark, and I fucking liked it.
Now I know his experience is limited, fucking tainted, but didn’t he feel the same thing I did?
Fuck. I’ve lost count of how many beds I’ve frequented over the years, but they all had one notable thing in common: They were all girls.
So why does sleeping beside my best friend feel completely normal?
Why does the press of his lips against mine ignite something new inside of me?
And it doesn’t even feel like a revelation, it’s not like we kissed and I suddenly realized I’m gay.
No, I still very much want to sink inside Aurora and hear her scream my name, but now?
Now I also find myself wanting something else from Harden, something more.
We’ve always been connected on a deeper level and it’s not like I don’t love him and Everest equally, I care for them both, but a part of me has always known that things were different between us.
I just chalked it up to knowing him longer, being closer to him over the years.
Where Everest had Aurora, I had Harden, and yeah we were still a solid group of four, all our lines overlapping in all ways possible, but things seem different now.
Now, it’s like I look at him and I am seeing him for the first time.
His love, his pain, his truth, his trauma, him.
Kissing him was like waking up from a coma, like I was dying and he jolted me back to life, and it made me realize that I’ve always felt more for him than I do for Everest.
I love Monroe, don’t get me wrong, but not one part of me wants to kiss or jerk off with the moody fucker.
His girl however? Fuck, what I would give to have more of her.
To have her and Harden both moaning for me, until they are both falling apart with my name on their lips.
The thought has my cock jerking to life beneath my shorts, as I lift myself over the bar on now shaky hands.
Fuck.
I drop down from where I was doing pull-ups, my eyes never leaving him, which means I spy the moment his eyes flick my way. They trail over me from head to toe, his blank mask never fucking wavering, and it has me wanting to scream across the gym at him.
Which would only be a pointless waste of breath.
I know what he’s been through, the sickening truths of his pain, that now stoke the flames of my fury inside of me on a daily basis.
Which means I also know I can’t push him, not on something like this.
It’s too important, he’s too important, but that doesn’t mean it’s not driving me fucking crazy.
I’m already desperate to fuck one best friend, and now another, I can’t fucking take it.
But I know who can.
My eyes flick to where Everest is running on the treadmill, not too far from Harden, silent and focused as always.
He didn’t come home last night, once again unable to spend even one night away from Aurora, and I can’t say I blame him.
If I had made her scream the way he did on Saturday night, I’d never leave her fucking side again.
He fucked her, he finally fucked her, claimed her, and I’m sure he did it to mark her as his even more, but right now only one thought is blaring through my mind.
Aurora Gray is no longer a virgin.
Grabbing my water bottle and towel, I cross the gym in quick strides, not stopping until I reach his side, feeling Harden’s stare on me the entire time. Everest flicks his eyes up to meet mine, as my gaze finally snaps from Harden to him.
“Where is she?” My question is quick and to the point, my voice firm and void of any emotion, but I’m sure he can read the undertones of what I’m truly asking.
His fingers adjust the speed on the treadmill, slowly himself slightly as he searches my stare.
My eyes unwillingly flick back to Harden for only a fraction of a second, before I focus back on Ever, but I know he sees it.
His own glare bounces between the two of us, assessing, searching, for what I’m not sure.
Does he know something? Does he see something different between us?
If he does I don’t care, because I know right now that Harden can’t give me what I need, no matter how much I wish he could.
“She’s working on a project in one of the art studios.” I can tell it pains him to admit that to me, and I nod in thanks, giving Harden one last look before I storm out of the gym without looking back.
I don’t even bother showering, just grab my shit from my locker and push out into the fall breeze.
A few people call my name, but I give them nothing more than a nod of my attention, too laser-focused on where I’m going, on what I need.
I’m not familiar with the art building, so when I make it across campus it takes me a minute to get my bearings, my eyes scanning the signs and map to find what I need.
Once located, I head in that direction, pushing through the doors and ignoring the couple of people filing out as everyone’s class day comes to an end.
It doesn’t take me long to find her tucked away in a studio at the end of the hallway, and she startles when I push inside and slam the door behind me.
“Griffin,” she gasps, clutching her chest, as if she were truly afraid before she realized it was me.
Her gaze flicks behind me as if expecting to find the other two, and with the mood I’m in, it only serves to piss me off.
“What are you doing here?” Her question has a slight bemused edge to it, as if we haven’t spent countless hours just the two of us, but that was before.
Before we kissed.
Before I had my fingers stuffed in her cunt until she came all over them.
“You know why I’m here, sweetheart.” I let her hear the telltale sign of the door locking, before I push off it and make my way toward her.
“I’m just in the middle of my art project,” she tells me, her voice shaking slightly, and I smirk as I erase the distance between us.
“Well, don’t let me stop you, because it certainly isn’t going to stop me.
” I make my way to a desk just behind her and make a show of sitting on top of it, leaning back on my hands and delighting in the way her eyes trail over me.
It’s not casual, it’s not even subtle, no, it’s pure eye fucking, and it has my cock springing to life beneath my shorts.
When I don’t move, she studies me for a few more seconds, before turning and going back to her work.
She is working on a painting, standing before her easel in a way I’ve seen her do so many times before, and it’s fucking mesmerizing to watch.
To see such sweet and careful hands, be so deliberate in the way they create something from nothing.
Beside her is a long table, filled with different paints and brushes, some pots of water, and other art supplies, and even in my need for her, I let myself just watch.
We sit in silence for what feels like eternity, but in reality it’s just until she lets herself relax again, the tension bleeding from her shoulders as she throws herself back into her work.
That’s when I move, slipping silently off the table and eating up the last bit of space between us, until I am just a breath away from her, behind her, my hands finding her hips.
Her entire body reacts as she jumps at the contact, only bringing her closer to me, her ass brushing against my half-mast cock and pulling a deep groan from the back of my throat.
“Griffin,” she gasps, flicking her eyes over her shoulder to collide with mine, and I’m already shaking my head.
“Don’t say my name like that, sweetheart.” I grit my words through my teeth in warning, licking my lips in anticipation of another taste of whatever she will give me.
“Like what?” Her words are barely above a whisper, her stare so entrapped by mine, that I see the moment her pupils dilate, staining her usual ocean blue gaze with a darkness I want to lose myself in.
“Like you’re as desperate for me as I am for you.” My hands slide down her hips until my fingers once again dance along the hem of her skirt, just like they did on Saturday night. Fuck, I love these slutty little skirts she wears.
“You’re desperate for me?” Her question is so serious that I almost fucking laugh in her face.
Doesn’t she see what she does to me?