Page 82 of Dating Goals
The way she says it, like our kiss meant nothing, cuts deeper than any hockey stick to the ribs. I watch helplessly as she walks toward the waiting helicopter. She doesn’t look back. Not even once.
“Not goodbye,” I call after her. “See you later. Tomorrow. At the pub.”
She doesn’t answer, just climbs into the helicopter with surprising grace for someone in a floor-length gown.
The helicopter lifts off, taking Anika with it, and something in my chest constricts painfully. I stand there long after it disappears into the night sky, clutching my jacket in my hands.
Then, hating myself for it, I run back inside the mansion.
18
ANIKA
Kissing Griffin McGregor has ruined my life in exactly six different ways, and I’m still counting.
I peek through the tiny gap between the wine rack and the wall, barely breathing as Griffin’s silhouette appears outside the frosted window on his way to knock on the pub door. Again. For the third time today.
My heart lodges in my throat.
“He’s persistent, I’ll give him that,” Lars mutters, shuffling his Jass cards like he’s done a thousand times before. Lars, Colin, and Evan sit at their usual table, acting as my human shield.
“Shh!” I hiss from my hiding spot. “He’ll hear you.”
Griffin knocks again, more insistently this time. The sound echoes through the pub, setting off those unwelcome butterflies in my stomach. “Anika? I know you’re in there!”
“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Evan says, laying down a card. “You two seemed cozy with each other before. What happened at that fancy party?”
What happened? Oh, nothing much. Just mysterious warnings from possible criminals, a femme fatal leaving her lipstick mark on Griffin’s face, and a kiss that melted my brain.
“Nothing happened,” I lie. “I just need space.”
The truth is, I’ve been hiding from Griffin for three days now. Three days of ducking behind cheese displays at the market and taking alternate hiking routes. Three days of texting “go back to Canada” in various ways. Three days of replaying that kiss over and over until I want to scream into a pillow.
Three days of falling asleep with my fingers pressed to my lips…which is pathetic on levels I don’t even want to examine.
Griffin’s face appears at the window now, hands cupped around his eyes to see through the glass. I shrink further into my hiding spot, almost knocking over a bottle of schnapps in the process.
“For the love of…” Colin sighs, pushing back his chair. “I’ll get rid of him.”
Colin shuffles to the door and cracks it open just enough to block entry. I can’t see Griffin’s face anymore, but his voice carries clearly.
“Hey, I just need to talk to Anika for five minutes,” Griffin says, pleading and determined.
“Bar’s closed,” Colin replies flatly.
“But you guys are in there playing cards,” Griffin argues. “The lights are on.”
“Private game night.”
Lars and Evan exchange amused glances over their cards. They’re the only customers I’ve allowed in today, partly because they’re like uncles to me.
“Look, I know she’s in there. Her mother said she was working tonight.”
I’m going to kill my mother. Slowly. With her own patchouli incense sticks.
“Anika isn’t available,” Colin says, starting to close the door.
“Wait!” Griffin’s foot appears, stopping the door. “Just tell her there’s something important she needs to know about?—”
