Page 59 of A Little Secret

“Freshmen!” Everett yells. “Find a team to keep in line. As always, what happens at Game Night stays at Game Night.” Stepping closer, he snaps a cuff around Raine’s hand, then clicks it around his left wrist, leaving his dominant hand free. “And please don’t stab anyone with the scissors. We don’t have insurance for this shit.” Everyone laughs. “Once the handcuffs are in place, find a spot on the floor. Freshmen, distribute the tape, gift, wrapping paper, and blindfolds for your team. Let’s go!”

Griffin’s touch is gentle as he follows Everett’s orders, brushing his fingers against my bare skin. The cold metal is a stark comparison to his warm fingertips, and a zing shoots up my arm, surprising the shit out of me.

Where the hell did that come from?

Snapping the cuff around my right wrist, he asks, “You wanna be the eyes or the hands?”

“Hands,” I decide as our judge for the evening approaches us.

He’s scrawny, blond, and still sports braces. I almost feel bad for him until Griffin tugs him in for a bro hug like he’s one of the guys.

“Hey, Boyle, what’s up?” Griff asks.

“Nothing much, man.” He hands Griffin the crimson silk blindfold. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, we’re gonna need it,” Griffin replies.

“I’m sorry. Do you two know each other?” I ask.

“Uh, you don’t know Boyle?” Griffin cocks his head. “Boyle helps out at all the parties.” He grabs Boyle’s bicep and shakes him around like they’re best friends. “He’s also on the hockey team?—”

“I help with the team’s equipment,” Boyle explains.

“Aw, come on,” Griff argues, hooking his arm around the guy’s neck. “Boyle’s the best. He’s also gonna help us win tonight. Right, Boyle?”

“Sure thing.” Boyle chuckles. “Good luck, you two.”

“Thanks,” I say.

After Griffin lets Boyle go, he covers my eyes with the silk blindfold, making my mind spin in circles. One, because Griffin’s the captain of the hockey team. He has every reason to be cocky and arrogant and, honestly, kind of a dick. Instead, he’s kind. To everyone. Even the people so many would deem beneath him. It’s kind of…hot. What else is hot is how he’s being so careful right now. Gently, he brushes my hair down along the back of my head, careful to keep the strands out of the blindfold’s knot as he loops the fabric together.

“Cuffsandblindfolds? Is it my lucky night, or what?” I tease in hopes of breaking the tension I’m currentlydrowning in. And it’s strange because I have no idea if I’m the only one feeling it.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like that,” Griffin quips. Prickles race up my arm, making my hair stand on end as his fingertips gently skate against the inside of my wrist, and he hands me the scissors. “Here.”

“Here,” Boyle adds.

I stand a little straighter, turning toward where I assume Boyle is still standing. “Are you talking to me?”

“He’s talking to me,” Griffin answers. “He has the present for you to wrap. And thanks, man,” he adds, addressing Boyle.

Oops.

Seriously, this no-eyesight thing is rough.

“Three! Two! One! Go!” someone shouts from the opposite side of the room, causing a jolt of anxiety to shoot down my spine.

“Shit, we gotta go.”

Moving together, Griffin guides me to kneel on the ground. I blindly search for the roll of wrapping paper, attempt to measure the gift, and cut the correct amount of paper.

“More,” Griffin prods.

I roll out another couple of inches.

“A little more,” he orders.

I move the scissors another inch or two and wait.

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