A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

FINLEY

T here are pros to not touching alcohol. Remembering the night before. Saving money. Always being the designated driver. No one questioning why you’re not drinking tonight and if it’s because you’re most definitely pregnant.

See? Pros.

Taking a deep breath, Griffin and I walk up the steps to the house when someone almost knocks into me as they stumble to the edge of the porch. Falling to their knees on the freshly shoveled cement, their body lurches forward near the bushes, and they spew vomit all over the snow-covered plants, staining the white with an orange-ish red.

My stomach churns as I watch helplessly.

Aaaand, there’s another pro.

No vomiting in public. Scratch that. No vomiting. Period. Yup. Sounds like a solid win to me.

Speaking of which, I kind of think I might puke. The putrid smell clings to my senses, and I press my fingers to my mouth in an attempt to keep from joining the inebriated partygoer on the ground when Griffin grabs my side. Tugging me closer to him, we give the stranger, who clearly doesn’t feel well, some extra space as he leads me inside the house.

“Boyle!” Griff calls. “Go check on the person out front. If they need an Uber, let me know.”

“Will do.” The freshman rushes outside, and Griffin drops his hand from my waist. A frown threatens to take over my expression, but I keep it in check. Because we’re pretending again.

Right.

Not sure why it feels weird to not feel Griffin’s hand touching me when I’ve gone my entire life without it, but hey. It’s totally normal.

Now, if I could only get my stomach to calm down after the near-vomit sesh, I’d be golden.

“You good?” Griffin murmurs. His voice is low and raspy as he stares down at me.

Peeking up at him, I force a smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look like you’re gonna be sick.” His forehead stitches with concern. “Do you want me to?—”

“I’m fine.” I grab his hand to keep him from touching my face and lower it to our sides, releasing a slow breath. “Promise.”

His brows pinch even more. “You sure? You look pale.”

“I’ll be fine, I just”—I take another slow breath and let go of his hand—“need a minute.”

He tugs me to the side of the entryway, keeping us from blocking the front door as he peers down at me. “Fin…”

“Seriously,” I murmur. “All things considered, I’m pretty lucky. That was my first bout with—” My eyes pop, and I clamp my lips shut.

He nods, clearly filling in the blank without needing me to spell it out for him .

Morning sickness.

That was my first bout with morning sickness.

And holy shit, I almost said morning sickness in the middle of a freaking college party. Want to talk about fast-spreading rumors? Yeah, pretty sure that thing would catch like wildfire.

I’ve heard it’s a bitch—morning sickness, not being the star in a rumor mill, although I doubt either is pleasant. If I’m being completely honest, it’s been strange to not experience the rite of passage. So, this? This is only a small hiccup. In fact, it’s already dissipating now that I’m not outside, and the putrid stench of vomit has been replaced with sweaty bodies, alcohol, Febreeze, and Griffin’s cologne. My lips form a small “o” as I let out another slow breath and smile up at Griff.

“Your color’s coming back,” he notes.

“Maybe you’re just good at making a girl blush.”

His eyes fall over my body, then meet my gaze again. “I can think of a thing or two that could make you blush.”

With a smirk, I lift my chin. “Oh, really? Care to tell me?”

“I could show you,” he offers, moving closer, but I press my hand to his chest.

“You could if we weren’t supposed to be lying low, remember?”

He frowns. “Fuck.”

I laugh.

“I almost forgot,” he mutters.

“You almost made me forget,” I offer. “And we both know I’m stubborn and not afraid to stick to a plan.”

“And go down with it, even if it’s a shitty one,” he quips.

With another laugh, I shove his shoulder. “Hey!”

“Just calling it as I see it. ”

“Pretty sure we both agreed to keep a wide berth for tonight.”

He leans closer, towering over me. “Pretty sure I’d claim you in front of everyone right here, right now, if you let me.”

He would. I know he would. The idea alone makes my heart all but thump right out of my chest, and I suck my lips between my teeth, considering it, but tear my attention from his face and stare at the LAU logo on his shirt instead.

“Yo, Thorne!” someone calls from the kitchen.

Griffin looks down at me, appearing torn. I don’t blame him. He was inside me thirty minutes ago. Now, we’re supposed to pretend like we’re only friends? Yup. This is weird.

“Offer’s still on the table,” he murmurs.

“Go on, Thorne.” I shove him again, keeping my tone light. “You can come find me later.”

“Is that an invitation or…?”

“Go,” I say, exasperated.

“I mean, I’d prefer if I came , but whatever you say, Fin.” He lifts his chin toward whoever was calling him from the kitchen and moves past me, letting his fingers brush against mine as he leaves. Tingles race up my arm, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chasing after him and insisting he pin me to the nearest wall.

The firm muscles beneath his T-shirt bunch and flex with every step he takes away from me. I shake off the view, clear my throat, and scan the area for a distraction when I spot some of my friends. Dylan’s tucked near the fireplace. Reeves’ arm is around her shoulder as he nurses a beer while Mav and Ophelia stand across from them, creating a half-circle. Together, they laugh with each other like it’s just another Game Night. And maybe it is…for now.

The question is, where’s my brother? And has he already told everyone about what happened in the locker room? Not that I would care. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, it’s…out of the bag. Isn’t it? So why am I pretending I’m not into Griff? And even if they don’t know, they will. Eventually. So…why put off the inevitable?

Forcing my feet to move, I head to my friends near the fireplace. Once they’re within earshot, I call out, “Don’t worry. You can start the party now. I’m here.”

Ophelia turns around, laughs, and pulls me into a hug. “Hey!”

“Hey! So, what’d I miss?” I ask.

“Nothing much,” Ophelia answers. “Only that Dylan finally got a call from her lawyer.”

She lets me go, and my jaw drops as I turn to Dylan. “Are you serious?”

Nodding, Dylan scoots her glasses along the bridge of her nose, her relief palpable. “Yup.”

“And?” I prod. “The drug possession charge?”

“I’m officially off the hook. I mean, I was already officially off the hook, but now I’m officially officially off the hook.”

“What about Reeves’ dad?” I continue, mentioning the asshole who not only planted cocaine in the back of Reeves’ car in hopes of screwing him over, only for Dylan to take the fall instead, but also used his position as a police officer to torture his son for years until Dylan came to his defense. Yeah, there’s a thing or two I’d love to do to Reeves’ father, and most of them involve a rusty spoon and the man’s balls.

“That’s the best part,” Reeves interrupts with a shameless grin. He hooks his arm around Dylan’s shoulders and tugs her into his side. “They kicked my dad off the force.”

My jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yup,” Dylan answers. “We never have to worry about him or any of the messes he made ever again.”

“No freaking way!” I squeal. Tackling them in the middle of the family room, I give Dylan and Reeves a huge hug. Lia joins me, forming a Dylan and Reeves-centered sandwich as we celebrate their gigantic win. Seriously. This is amazing, and I couldn’t be happier for both of them.

Squirming, Dylan says, “Okay, okay, let me go! I can’t breathe!” through bouts of laughter. After we follow her order, she fixes her skewed glasses again, smooths out the LAU jersey swallowing her whole, and turns back to me. “So, how was your chat or whatever?”

“Chat?” My brows bunch. “Oh! Yeah, it was good,” I lie. “Have you guys seen Raine or Ev by chance?”

“Yup,” Lia answers. “Everett looked like a constipated moose as soon as he walked in, and Raine followed him to the back of the house. Then they both left like bats out of hell.”

“Cool, cool, cool.” I rock back on my heels and pull my phone out to text Raine.

“PS, we were just talking about you,” she adds.

My thumbs stop moving across my screen, and I peek up at my half circle of friends. Each of them is staring at me, and boy, would I give my left boob to know what they’re thinking. Okay, that’s a lie. Griffin likes my left boob. He likes my right boob, too, but it’s beside the point.

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I ask, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Reeves answers. “Dreggs wants me to give him your number. Dylan says it’s against the girl code, but Ophelia says it would be good for you.” He crosses his arms. “What do you think I should do?”

I tilt my head toward Lia. “It would be good for me, huh?”

“Dude, we were literally talking about this at the game, so you already— Oh. Uh. Hey!”

A throat clears behind me, and I peek over my shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

“Hey, Fin.” Dreggs offers me a Red Solo cup. “Thirsty?”

Taking the cup from his grasp, I peek inside, taking in the amber liquid, then look up at him. “Is this beer?”

Dreggs nods. “Yeah. Figured you could use a drink.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t drink,” I remind him. “But Reeves does.”

“Oo, thanks.” He grabs the cup from me and swallows it back.

I turn to Dreggs again. “Epilepsy ruins all the fun, am I right?”

Squeezing the back of his neck, Dreggs mumbles, “Shit. I forgot about the whole, uh, epilepsy thing.”

“Just wait ‘til you see me drop to the ground and start convulsing,” I quip with a wink. “Then it’ll be etched into your brain for eternity.”

His eyes bug out, making Ophelia laugh as she pulls me into her. “And here I thought Dylan was the awkward one.” She squeezes me tight. “Ignore her, Dreggs. She’s joking.”

I’m not, but I get why my best friend’s trying to soften my crazy. What she doesn’t understand is that I need Dreggs to see it. I need him to become uninterested and soon because if he keeps talking to me after everything that went down in the locker room, Griffin is going to see, and if Griffin sees, whatever ruse we’re still clinging to will explode into a bazillion pieces.

“Definitely not joking,” I announce. “Hell, ask Griff. He saw it firsthand over winter break. It was a real hoot, let me tell ya.”

“Shit.” Dreggs tugs at the collar of his T-shirt, appearing almost as uncomfortable as a man who was just asked to turn and cough.

Wee lamb.

If he thinks talking about epilepsy is messy, he should try dating someone with it.

“How, uh,”—he clears his throat—“how are you doing after…it?”

“You mean my seizure?” I pat his chest. “I’m fine. But I should probably go find me a non-alcoholic drink. Nice chatting, though.”

As I start to slip past him, he grabs my wrist, preventing my escape. Not aggressively, mind you, but, uh, confidently? Yeah. I’ll go with confidently. Like I’d be a fool to turn him down. And maybe I am a fool because this guy? He doesn’t do it for me. At all.

“Playing hard to get, Fin?” Dreggs challenges.

I smirk back at him. He is cute. And if I wasn’t already most definitely interested in someone else, I could see myself testing the waters just for shits and giggles…and maybe to educate him on chronic diseases. But he’s too late. And he isn’t Griffin.

My attention drifts to the kitchen, where Griffin disappeared. He stares at me, his jaw tight and his biceps bulging as he folds his arms. All of the humor from our little flirting session a few minutes ago is completely void from his expression. He doesn’t look pissed. He looks…uninterested yet still…observant.

I’m not surprised. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. Now that we’ve been hooking up, I can see past the laid back facade. The one he uses to protect himself. Like, if he can convince others he doesn’t care, then maybe he won’t, either. He does the same thing with hockey. Pretend a loss isn’t a big deal, and maybe he won’t beat himself up about it.

He still does, but…I don’t know. He tries, at least. Not to care. But for some reason, the idea of him not caring in this moment isn’t comforting. In fact, it’s kind of terrifying. The idea of Griffin looking at someone else like this instead of me. He’s been so patient with me. More patient than I deserve. And I know we both agreed to lie low. To give Everett time to wrap his head around us dating, but…I don’t know if I care anymore.

“Fin?” Dreggs prods.

“Surprisingly, I’m not playing at all,” I murmur, looking back at him. “Nice chatting with you, Dreggs. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I twist out his grasp and slip through the crowd, holding Griffin’s unreadable gaze.

He’s still watching me. The realization spurs me on. It’s like he’s a homing beacon. Like the world is nothing but a blurry canvas around us, and all that matters, all I can focus on, is getting to him as quickly as possible. He looks so…unflustered. So laid back and in his element surrounded by people. Strangers mostly. Or maybe they’ve been friends for years. You’d never know the difference. He’s kind to everyone. Patient with everyone.

Patient with me . So damn patient with me.

When I finally reach him, I don’t stop. I close the last bit of distance, rise onto my tiptoes, and kiss him in the middle of the party. Without caring who can see or what assumptions they might make. I kiss him with everything inside of me. Every fantasy. Every selfish thought. Every ounce of pent-up desire and whispered what ifs that’ve filtered through my mind for years. Years. Claiming him in front of everyone and letting everyone in the vicinity know I’ve been claimed, too. Even if I didn’t expect it. Even if I didn’t want it. Not in the beginning. But Griff? Well, I think we’ve danced around this long enough to know what wasting time feels like. And right now? I’ve never wanted anything more than to say, fuck it. I like Griffin Thorne, and he likes me.

He’s stunned for a millisecond before his hands find my waist, and he kisses me. Hooting echoes from the family room, and I have zero doubt in my brain it belongs to Reeves, Ophelia, and Maverick. Dylan’s probably grinning, too, but the girl’s too quiet to hoot. I smile against Griffin’s mouth as I imagine it, and he pulls away, his forehead bunching. “What’s so funny?”

“You really want to know?” I ask.

He nods.

“I imagined Dylan hooting like the rest of our crazy friends.”

“They were hooting?” He looks over my head toward our friends, and his mouth splits into a shy grin. “Oh, so that’s why you kissed me.”

“I kissed you because I’m tired of letting people believe I could possibly want anyone who isn’t you when I’ve already wasted years with the wrong person. Is that a problem?”

He tugs me closer and steals another kiss, making my toes curl in the process. When he finally pulls away, he answers, “No problem.”

I smile back at him. “Didn’t think so.”

“So,” Reeves interjects.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find the rest of the gang trailing behind him. “This is new.”

“Or is it?” Dylan questions.

“Does your brother know?” Maverick interjects.

Griffin frowns, then answers for me. “He might’ve found out earlier tonight. ”

“And you’re still standing?” Mav scratches the scruff along his jaw. “I guess Raine really did help with Ev’s short fuse.”

“It might not be as short, but it’s still there,” I offer, threading my fingers through Griffin’s and wrapping him around my body like a blanket. “You should’ve seen his face when?—”

Griffin clears his throat next to my ear, so I zip my lips and throw away the proverbial key, pulling laughter from Dylan and Ophelia.

“You gonna smooth everything out with him?” Reeves asks Griffin. “‘Cause, uh, I’ve been on Everett’s shit list. Zero out of ten stars. Do not recommend.”

Chuckling, Griffin’s focus falls to me. “I’ll take care of it. Promise.”

I peek over my shoulder at him. “I know you will.”

“Now, let’s celebrate!” Dylan offers. “Because Finley and I are going to be sisters!”

Laughter echoes around us, and I shove my best friend on the shoulder. “Careful with the assumptions, Dyl. You might scare me away.”

An arm squeezes around my waist as Griffin shifts me from his front and into his side. “Nah. I’m not letting you go anywhere. Sorry, Fin, but now that you’ve ripped off the Band-Aid, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Welp. When he puts it that way…

Lifting my chin, I wait for him to meet me halfway, and just like the mind-reading genius he is, he does.