Page 64 of Bitter Truths

∞∞∞

HALSEY

The following week, Griffin enters our art class with a smile, but when I search his eyes, I find them devoid of emotion. And my heart sinks at the expression because he’s so dark, he’s unreachable.

He sits down beside me and smirks, his pretty eyes lighting up, but the cruelty shining back at me makes me pause.

I know I decided my course, but fuck if seeing Griffin look at me with hate isn’t curdling my heart.

Did I do this? Yes. And the thought stings.

“Hals,” he murmurs, turning to the front and smiling at a chick sitting two rows up and over. Her eyes go wide, and she flushes, and I slump in my seat, biting back the hurt trembling on my tongue.

Yes, I fucking hate him, but I love him, too. Dick.

“What’s wrong, sweet?” Griffin murmurs, and I glance his way.

His brows slam over his eyes at my expression before I sneer. “You’re fucking unreal. Were you dropped on your head or something?”

His eyes shutter, and he glances at his hand curled into a fist on the desk. “No, Hals, I wasn’t, but I’m sure that’s because no one thought of it.”

“Huh?”

He just shakes his head and says. “Don’t worry, baby. I get it. But when you’re ready for big dick again, let me know. I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule.”

Sucking in a breath, I turn to the board and perseverate on his statement through class before grabbing my books and escaping.

Griffin doesn’t follow, and I think that’s what brings defeated tears to my eyes. He’s given up, and I’m fucking stupid.

All the way home, I cry, and when I’m alone, I collapse into my bed and burrow beneath the covers. I was starting to see glimpses of the Griffin I once knew, but the guy staring back at me today was nothing I’d seen before.

And I don’t know if I should do something about it.

∞∞∞

It’s homecoming week, and it’s fucking cold. It’s also the last football game of the season.

It’s been years since I’ve been at a game, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little thrill watching Griffin play. He commands the field and his teammates, and it’s hot.

Griffin and I have studiously ignored each other since our altercation, and even though it pains me, I’ve been focusing my thoughts elsewhere because, in this, I cannot fail. The dicks deserve what they get, and I plan to be the one to give it to them.

“Who’s the hottie in number 24?” Aaron asks, stealing another handful of popcorn from my bucket.

Beside me, Max says, “Jermaine White. Solid player but no game.”

“Hm, pity,” Aaron says, glancing at Max beneath his lashes.

Amused, I see Max turn away uncomfortably and wonder if it’s Aaron’s attention or something else that has his cheeks blooming with color.

“Holy shit,” someone behind me says, and we all stand for the outcome, Griff passing the ball for a seamless touchdown.

The crowd roars, and it’s mayhem as Griffin pulls off his helmet and smiles wide. For a breathless moment, I wish I could congratulate him, show him I was here, but then I see Miranda sitting down by the sideline, no doubt in a seat reserved for the players’ families, and my stomach sinks to my toes.

Icy cold regret pulses through my chest, and I sigh because that could be me, but we ruined it, and it would seem he’s taking out his grief the old-fashioned way. Fuck.

Assuming he hasn’t truly moved on, which is more depressing.

“C’mon,” Max says, and we follow him from the bleachers.

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