My grandma and I headed into the living room, where I saw my father in his favorite chair, watching the football game.
“Hey, Dad.”
He glanced at me for a second. “Hi, peanut.” His attention was already back on the TV.
“What kind of beer do you want?” a muffled but deep voice called from the kitchen.
My father yelled back, “Miller Lite.”
I wrinkled my nose in confusion. “Who’s here?” It’d almost sounded like—
“One Miller Lite com—” Griffin grinned when he saw me. “Hey, Mads. You’re here.”
My eyes widened, and my heart sped up. “Griffin. What are you doing here?”
“Your mom invited me,” he said as he walked toward me. He handed my dad a beer and then sat on the couch, opening his own bottle.
“When did you talk to my mom?”
“Saturday,” he said, eyes on the television. “You’d know that if I saw you last night.”
He was totally calling me on my shit.
“Sorry. I ended up treating myself to takeout and a movie, and I fell asleep early.”
A brow went up.
“I swear.” I chuckled. “I guess I’m getting old now that I’m thirty.” Plus, someone had kept me up most of the night before that. I had been truly tired last night.
“Sorry you were all alone.”
“I was fine. Really. If I had been lonely, I would have stopped by the bar.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
He seemed to accept my response because he nodded and jerked his head toward the kitchen. “You’d better get those rolls in the kitchen. Your mom is starting to panic.”
“Will do.”
I spun slowly on my heel as I took in the first conversation Griffin and I’d had after we had lots and lots of sex.
It was like nothing had changed. I didn’t know what I’d expected from him. Some sort of sexual innuendo or knowing glances, I supposed. But everything was the same as usual. He was the same Griffin as always.
And as I headed in the direction of the kitchen, I felt foolish for freaking out about seeing my best friend again.
“When are you going to hit that, Madeline?” Grandma Dotty asked.
I stopped in my tracks. “Oh my God,” I said in shock.
“If I were ten years younger, I’d be all over that boy like white on rice. He’s so polite and good-looking. Tall too.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I bet he’s—”
“Grandma. Jeez.”
She shrugged. “I’m only stating facts, kid. You’d better snatch that hunk up before someone else does.”
Someone, please rescue me from this conversation.
My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, and she smiled when she saw me. “You’re here.”
I quickly ran to her and handed her the buns with a sigh of relief.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her face full of alarm now.
“Your mother is a dirty old woman.”
Mom laughed. “What else is new? Last time you visited, she told you about three dates she had been on in one week.”
My grandfather had passed away ten years ago, and my grandmother was determined to find husband number two.
“She told me that if she were ten years younger, she’d be on Griffin like white on rice,” I whispered. “Never mind that I don’t ever want to picture that in my head, but she’d still be twenty years older than him.”
My mom laughed. “I don’t think that’s stopped your grandmother in the past.”
“Gross.”
Grandma walked into the kitchen. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
“Madeline’s worried you’re moving in on her man,” Mom said.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “He’s not my man.”
Grandma patted my arm. “Don’t worry, kid. He’s safe from me. He only has eyes for you.”
I didn’t think he had eyes for me so much as he didn’t have eyes for anyone else in this house. Besides, I was the best friend. It was obvious he would look at me the most.
“I think he’s just not ready to date you yet, Grandma.”
She laughed. “Whatever you say, kid.”
After my mother maintained that I wasn’t allowed to help her cook since it was my birthday dinner, she pushed me out of the kitchen, and I had nowhere else to go, except to sit down next to Griffin.
I couldn’t help the flutter of nerves in my stomach, even after he had greeted me like usual, but I didn’t need to worry because neither he nor my father looked my way as I sat down on the couch.
I tried to watch the game, but I wasn’t into football, and my eyes wandered to my best friend.
He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, obviously into the game. His large hands were wrapped around his beer bottle. I never really thought hands were that sexy before, but the memories of those hands touching me all over was making me hot.
Literally and figuratively.
I felt like someone had turned up the thermostat, and my nipples were hard while I got a tingle between my legs.
I was just about to get up and insist my mom give me a job to do when Griffin swung his beer bottle away from him and over to me. He was still staring at the screen.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“You keep staring at my beer. I figured you wanted some since you hadn’t grabbed one for yourself.”
I chuckled. No, I don’t want your beer. I want you.
But I couldn’t tell him that.
Instead, I took the bottle from him and downed a couple of sips before running the cold bottle over my forehead.
“Dinner’s ready,” my mom yelled from the kitchen.
“Great,” I said and pushed the bottle back to Griffin.
His fingers brushed mine as he took his beer.
I whimpered as I jumped up from my seat.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just hungry.” I turned and headed for the table before he could tell I was lying.
Thirteen
Madeline
My parents’ home only had two bathrooms, and since my father was occupying the main-floor one, I headed upstairs.
I didn’t make it to the top floor much anymore since I’d moved out because there really was no reason to, so walking up the steps flooded me with memories of growing up there.
After using the bathroom, I continued my journey to my old bedroom. It was still the same as when I had gone to college over a decade ago. My mom had said she didn’t need to use it for anything—they already had a guest room—so she left it as it was.
I thumbed a couple of participation awards I had hung on the wall and a couple of old notebooks I had left on my desk. I sat down on my double bed, and I turned on the bedside lamp since the light over the stairs didn’t quite reach this far into my room.
On the bottom shelf of my nightstand were some photo albums. I had forgotten they were there.
I pulled out the thickest one and slowly opened it.
I loved photo albums. They were work, but they had a magical quality that scrolling through one’s phone lacked.
The photos started when I had been in middle school, but as I flipped through the pages, I also came upon high school pictures. I smiled at the image of me and Griffin on our first day as freshmen. I remembered being so nervous, worried I was going to get picked on or hazed, but Griffin stood with his arms crossed, casually leaning against the tree we were posing in front of.