Page 14 of Fighter Daddy's Girl

“Think about it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Possibly.”

I walk away from Tommy, heading over to where my guy is warming up. As we start to work, my mind keeps drifting back to Gracie. I keep seeing those sparkling eyes framed in that round, smooth, alabaster-colored face, and I imagine those soft, pillowy lips pressed to mine. Her perfume still lingers in my nose, and imagining her tight, soft body pressed to mine still sends a bolt of electricity through my veins.

I banish all thoughts of her from my mind and physically keep myself from getting hard as I stand here thinking about her. Nowoman has ever had this sort of effect on me. Ever. It’s confusing and exhilarating, and the only thing I know for sure right now is I’m going to be taking a very cold shower tonight.

7

GRACE

The Birthday Massacre is playing loudly through my Bluetooth speaker—though not too loud—and I’m stretched out on my bed, working on a paper for a class. Lila, as usual, is out doing God knows what with God knows who. I am honestly baffled how her grades are so good when I can’t remember the last time I saw her sit down and do any actual coursework. It seems like I work ten times as hard as she does just to keep up with her GPA-wise.

But whatever. If I could roll out of bed after partying all night and still pull straight As, I might be doing the same thing. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m not the party-all-night type. And I’m certainly not the go-home-with-any-boy-who-tickles-my-fancy type either. She really is using her college years to make all the memories she possibly can. And here I am on a Friday night doing work for a class. God, I suck.

As that thought passes through my mind, I glance at my phone and sigh. Nothing. I really thought after the kiss we shared outside the dorm that Griffin would reach out. That I’d at least get a text from him. But so far … nothing. He hasn’t called,emailed, texted, or sent a darn smoke signal. It’s been total and complete radio silence.

I wonder if it meant more to me than it did to him. Or if he thought about it and didn’t like me as much as he thought he did. It’s possible I interpreted it wrong. But when I looked into his eyes, I could have sworn we had a real connection. And it seemed strong. It was stronger than anything I’ve ever had with anybody before. But here we are, days after the fact, and Griffin hasn’t tried to contact me. I guess it was just all in my head.

I flop onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, doing my best to fight off the waves of depression washing over me. It figures. The first time I let myself get attached to and do anything with a boy, he ghosts me. Maybe it’s better this way. I really should be focusing on my education, anyway. I shouldn’t be trying to make time for boys. I’ve got too many things to do and need to focus.

The knock on my door yanks me out of my cocoon of self-pity, and I jump to my feet and roll my eyes as I walk across the room, certain it’s going to be Maddy, the RA from hell. She’s probably here to complain about my music being too loud, even though I checked, and it can’t be heard through the door. The girl just loves to flex her power over all of us. She’s annoying.

I throw the door open and freeze immediately. When I see him standing there, my stomach twists itself into knots, and my heart stops dead in its tracks.

“Griffin,” I say. “W-what are you doing here?”

He holds up a large paper bag and offers me a smile that finally restarts my heart and makes the blood flowing through my veins run hot. I swallow hard and try to control myself.

“I brought Thai food since I know it’s your favorite,” he says. “I know you’re busy with your schoolwork, but I thought you might want some dinner.”

My head spins like a tornado as I stare at him. “H-how did you know Thai is my favorite? And how did you know I was working on a paper?”

He shrugs. “I may have done a little social media stalking.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you never called or texted.”

“Yeah. About that,” he says with a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, and my senses start to come back to me. “How did you even get in here? You don’t have an ID?—”

“I’m a resourceful guy.”

“This isn’t a co-ed dorm. If our RA sees you, I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

“Then I better not let your RA see me.”

Without invitation, Griffin sweeps into the room and closes the door behind him. He turns to me with a crooked grin on his face that does wholly inappropriate things to me. I should be mad at him for ghosting me. Part of me wants to be. But the parts below my waist insist it’s better to forgive—a sentiment that echoes through my body as I gaze at him. Dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a black long-sleeved t-shirt that clings to his ripped physique, he looks like he just stepped out of an underwear ad. Like Lila said, he’s a beautiful man.

It’s then that I glance down at myself, dressed in black yoga pants, thick socks, and an oversized pink hoodie, and cringe. As if noticing my self-conscious appraisal, Griffin laughs.

“You are beautiful,” he says.

“I’m not. Not right now,” I say and pull the scrunchie out of my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders.

---