CHAPTER TEN #2
“So, why don’t you stop underestimating yourself?” He looks at me like this is the easiest, most natural solution, shrugs, then takes a sip of his beer.
“I…guess…I…could?” I’m confused by the simplicity of this idea. It doesn’t fully sink in.
We don’t get a chance to continue the conversation, because new arrivals at the bar demand my attention.
A couple clearly in the honeymoon phase have draped themselves across each other, desperate to order but unwilling to take their attention off each other long enough to finish a thought.
By the time I coax their orders out of them and have served their overly complicated martinis, I notice that my book rec lovers from earlier have crept closer to Griffin.
Abby is fully occupying the seat next to Griffin, batting her eyelashes at him in full-throttle flirtation mode.
I don’t blame her. Shooting your shot at a man as handsome as Griffin is a biological imperative. Our ovaries demand nearness to Griffin’s testicles. In fact, I can hear my ovaries screaming in protest whenever he leaves in the morning. Yeah, it’s weird. But I’m pretty sure it’s science.
“Your muscles are so big,” is all I catch of Abby’s conversation as I float by. Griffin’s attention is fully on her, though he glances up at me briefly as I pass. I can’t even muster a smile. I like Abby, and I’m not going to let this influence future book recommendations I give her.
But she can stop touching Griffin’s arm now.
The busy bar keeps me occupied, but it doesn’t prevent me from stewing about the three hot women who are probably setting themselves up to become Griffin’s next puck bunny trio.
I can feel my mood dip lower and lower as the girls crowd around him.
Griffin is eating it up. Any second now, he’ll leave with them.
My heart is pounding, my entire body bracing for the moment when he chooses one of them.
I watch the clock as the night churns on.
They spend almost an hour at his side, giggles wafting through the air as they take turns fawning over him.
Finally, blessedly, the girls wave me down to ask for the bill.
I can’t even look at Griffin because I’m scared he’ll see the jealousy burning in my gaze.
I pop on the fakest smile I can muster and head to the register to print their checks. As I return, Griffin shoos them off.
“I got it. Give it to me, Casey.”
My stomach cinches into a painful knot. One hour of flirting and fawning wasn’t enough, now he’s going to pay their tab? You’ll be seeing these girls at the house later, that’s for damn sure.
“Oh, wow. Mr. High Roller,” I tease, my voice hollow. My smile drops immediately, and I make a display of crumpling the bills. “I’ll put them on your tab.”
The girls are obsessed with Griffin now, and Abby makes a point to snatch up a square napkin and scrawl her phone number on it. She slides it down the bar toward Griffin before leaning in to whisper something into his ear.
I watch the way his gaze drops. The way his tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip.
I can’t stand it. I want this man so badly I could dissolve; it feels like my heart is going to beat right out of my chest. I busy myself with other customers, praying the girls leave at all.
If Griffin gets up to follow them out, I’ll die right here during my shift.
My head is so loud with noisy thoughts as I give a few other customers their second and third rounds. What had started as an incredible night now has me ready to puke into the ice bay. When I dare myself to check on Griffin, he’s sitting there all alone.
His gray-blue eyes are waiting for mine.
I swallow another wave of jealousy. “You ready to cash out?”
“No, but I’ll take a water.” He tips his empty bottle in the air.
I draw a deep breath through my nose as my gaze lands on the number Abby had scrawled on a napkin. “I thought you were gonna leave with those girls.”
His brows come together in the center. “Really?”
“Well, you all spent about an hour becoming best friends.” I pour him a glass of water and slide it his way. He’s watching me carefully, and somehow I feel like he can sense my jealousy.
He accepts the glass, still watching me, then he shrugs. “They were nice.”
Just like they’ll be nice in bed later, my mind supplies for me. I keep my mouth shut though, because I’m worried I’ll betray the fact that I’m too jealous to function right now. I look back at the clock; I’ve got ten minutes left on my shift.
“I need to start closing out,” I tell him. “My shift is almost over.”
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he says before taking a sip of the water. “I know you rode your bike.”
My chest goes tight, relief mixed with anguish. I’m so grateful that I’m the one he’s going home with—for now. But I have no claim on him. Abby, or any other girl, could show up in his bedroom anytime between now and the end of summer.
Tell him how you feel.
The idea is preposterous. On a scale of one to Abby, I’m definitely closer to a one.
The least desirable, the least put-together.
I can’t bear to receive confirmation that he only sees me as a friend, or worse yet, deserving of pity.
He’s doing for me exactly what he did for Piper, and that is all I need to know.
I’m cleaning up the bar, and when I get to Griffin’s spot, he’s prepared a little pile of trash for me to take away. I see Abby’s crumpled napkin mixed in with the straw wrappers and folded beer bottle labels.
“Don’t you want this?” I hold up Abby’s number.
He shakes his head.
I’m too curious not to probe. “Why not? She was so cute.”
He shrugs, his knowing gaze on me. I swear, he looks amused. Like he can see into all the jealous nooks and crannies of my heart. “Not my type.”
This blows my mind. Is he serious? Abby was gorgeous, fun, a social butterfly, and ready to go home with him yesterday. How could he not want her? Despite the sensitive topic, I’m too curious not to dig further. Even if it has the potential to hurt.
“That’s fascinating. She looked like the total package. What is your type?” I can only imagine it’s whoever he was thinking of that morning while he jacked off. I have to know who he pictures when he touches himself.
Griffin’s gaze on me is so intense that I almost need to look away. I’m not sure he’s going to answer at first and then he shrugs. “Smart. Sweet. Pretty.”
I snort. I can’t help it. “That’s it? That’s so vague.”
“How drilled down do you want me to get?” he asks with a laugh.
“I just thought you’d have more of an idea of Ms. Right,” I say. “Don’t we all?”
His gaze drifts as he contemplates, his jaw working back and forth. When he looks back at me, I’m rooted to my spot. “I do, actually. She’s brunette. With a touch of golden blonde. Super into books, like always reading. About five foot seven. Gorgeous thighs.”
There’s a buzzing deep in my core and spreading through my limbs more and more the deeper his words sink. At first I don’t comprehend what he even means, but then I start piecing it together.
But in case I needed help, he adds, “That’s my type, Casey.” His slate blue gaze is imploring. “You.”