Page 13 of One Hot Summer
I struggled to find my voice as I processed his revelation about dating men. My mind was reeling. I had so many questions, but I didn’t know how to ask them without seeming too eager or invasive. “Do you miss her?” I finally managed to say, though it wasn’t what I really wanted to ask. His gaze caught mine, blue as worn denim, and something electric flickered between us.
“Sometimes,” he answered softly. “But not in the way you’d think. It’s not actually her I miss. I miss having someone to come home to. Someone to talk to while I’m cooking dinner or watch TV with at the end of the day. I miss the small stuff, the stuff that connects us with another person.”
My heart ached at the loneliness in his voice. It was a feeling I was all too familiar with. I wanted to reach out and comfort him somehow, but I held back, not sure how my touch would be received.
“It’s lonely at home, which is why I’m still spending too much time at the office. In fact, I came here because my business partner and friend, Collin, insisted I take a vacation. He was worried I was headed for a burnout.”
“Were you?”
“Possibly,” he admitted. “I definitely needed a break. Some time to clear my head, gain some perspective, and make a few decisions regarding my future.”
“And what is it you want for your future?”
“I don’t know exactly. All I know is that I’m tired of being alone.”
His words hung between us as I stared up at the night sky. “I know what it’s like to be lonely. The only difference is, I never had a family to lose,” I admitted softly. “I was put up for adoption the second I was born; the records sealed on my parents’ identities. Like I said before, I bounced around from one foster home to another, not quite fitting in, never truly wanted. I’ve always felt like I was two steps behind everyone else,” I whispered, feeling especially vulnerable next to this man I’d always admired.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been. Is that why you’re killing yourself to try and graduate early?”
I laughed, short and sharp. “Probably. I just want to get to the part where I can stop worrying about being left behind. Finally have something that’s truly mine. Something permanent. Even if it’s only a piece of paper.”
We were quiet again, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The light of hundreds of fireflies sparkled like diamonds in the trees, putting on a dazzling display.
“I’ve spent so many years building something I thought would make me happy,” he finally said, “but lately I’ve been wondering what it’s all for.”
I took another drink then turned my head to find him staring back. For a second, the intensity of his gaze pinned me in place. “Maybe it’s not about what we do in life that’s supposed to make us happy. Maybe it’s about the people we have to share it with.”
Griffin tilted his head, his expression thoughtful as if he were letting my words settle. “You are awfully wise. Are you sure you’re only twenty-one?” he said, grinning.
I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the whiskey. “It’s true. At least according to my driver’s license. But I’ve experienced more in my twenty-one years than a lot of people twice my age.
He leaned forward, reaching for his drink at the same time I went to set mine back down and our fingers brushed. A jolt of electricity shot through me at the contact. I glanced up and found Griffin’s intense gaze locked on mine. The air between us suddenly felt charged, crackling with unspoken tension.
Almost in slow motion, we both moved in closer. My heart pounded as I felt the warmth of his breath on my face. Our lips met hesitantly at first, then with growing hunger. The kiss deepened, becoming passionate and urgent. My mind went blank except for the sensations—the softness of his lips, the faint stubble on his jaw, the taste of whiskey on his tongue.
Suddenly, Griffin pulled away, his eyes wide. He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice rough.
I sat there, stunned, my lips still tingling from our kiss. “Griffin, wait—” I started, but he was already heading for the door.
“This was a mistake,” he muttered, not looking at me. “We can’t… I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Adam.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone on the deck. I touched my fingers to my lips, my mind reeling. What had just happened? One moment we were kissing—the best kiss of my life—and the next he was gone. I slumped back in my chair, staring unseeing at the stars above. My heart was racing, torn between elation and confusion. I sat there for a long time, replaying the kiss in my mind, trying to make senseof his reaction. The fire slowly died down to embers as the night grew colder.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, I stood up and gathered our empty glasses. As I headed inside, I cast one last glance at the starry sky, wishing I could rewind time to that perfect moment before everything fell apart.
I quietly cleaned up in the kitchen. My mind was still reeling, but exhaustion was starting to set in. I trudged upstairs, pausing briefly outside Griffin’s closed door. I wanted so badly to knock, to talk things through, but I knew now wasn’t the time. Instead, I retreated to my own room. I couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Would he pretend nothing had happened? Would he ask me to leave?
As I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I realized that no matter what happened next, things between Griffin and me would never be the same. That kiss had changed everything, opening a door that couldn’t be closed.
Chapter Six
GRIFFIN
Ipoured my first cup of coffee and stood in front of the windows, mug clutched like a life raft, hoping the burn in my throat would distract me from the memory of the night before. More specifically, the kiss Adam and I had shared.
I half-hoped he would sleep in, maybe keep to his room and pretend last night was some shared fever dream. Maybe he’d get a text from his landlord that the air conditioning in his apartment was fixed and decide to book an early flight back to the city. Maybe he’d erase me from his memory before he even set foot back home.
But I knew better. Adam was too stubborn to run. Which meant I’d have to be the one to keep my distance.
