Oh. My. Gods.
Page 43
Griffin snickers in a way that makes it clear that he doesn’t think this is funny. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Going for broke, I say, “She thinks you got her parents banished.”
His jaw clamps shut.
“I don’t know why she thinks so, but she—”
“It’s true.”
My mouth drops open. “It’s what? Why would you do that?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes, but somehow I get the feeling he’s rolling them at himself and not me. “Not on purpose,” he says sadly. “I promise you that.”
How do you get someone banished accidentally?
“What happened?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. “She said you testified at MountOlympus and—”
“Drop it.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” I insist. “How can you not taking responsibility for something get her parents—”
“I said drop it!”
I jerk back at his outburst—though I can’t get far since I’m still cradled in his arms. Even though he sounds even angrier than when I was taunting him in the qualifying race, his grip on me remains relaxed. From the way he’s clenching his jaw and staring straight ahead I’m pretty sure I’m not getting any more conversation out of him.
I can’t stand the tension-rich silence.
“Do you know where you’re going to college?” I ask, hoping he’ll go for the change of subject.
No response. Shocking.
“I’m going to USC next year,” I say, filling the silence with my own voice. “Hopefully, I’ll get a cross-country scholarship. I just have to make a B average and do well in our meets and the coach says he’ll give me a full ride, which I’ll really need since Mom’s not working anymore and I don’t expect Damian to pay for anything because—”
“Oxford,” Griffin blurts. “I’m going to Oxford.”
Apparently he’s no match for babbling girls. I’ll have to keep that in mind in the future.
Remembering that Stella has the same plan, I ask, “Does everyone at the Academy go to Oxford?”
“The school has an . . . arrangement with the university administration.”
“What are you going to study?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to add, “Mythology?” but I decide against the sarcasm. At the moment he’s being heroic, but tomorrow at school is fair game and I don’t want to end up zapped to the ceiling in my underwear or anything.
“Economics.”
That’s it. One word response.
Not that I expect more.
“I’m going to study sports medicine. I want to be an athletic trainer, maybe for a college or the Olympic team or something.”
He grunts, which I take to be his confirmation that he heard what I said but doesn’t plan on replying. Which is fine, because I can keep on talking.
“I know I can’t run forever—even though I know there are always old guys in the Boston Marathon and stuff like that—but I have to make a living somehow. And this way I still get to be involved in sports without worrying when my knees are going to give out and—”
“We’re here.”
Lost in my one-sided conversation, I didn’t even realize we’d crossed the lawn, passed the school, and made it to the front steps of Damian’s house.
I do notice, however, that Griffin does not immediately drop me on my behind and run away as fast as he can.
Maybe it’s the hero contract.
“Well, thanks,” I say, even though he didn’t help me purely out of the goodness of his heart.
Still, he doesn’t put me down.
He does look at me, though, his bright blue eyes intent on mine.
It is a frozen moment—I can’t move or speak or react at all.
Helpless in his arms, silence ringing in my ears, I notice for the first time all the sensations. The feel of his heart pounding in his chest. His radiating heat. His arms against the bare skin of my legs and shoulder—
Oh. My. God.
I totally forgot the skimpy little running outfit Nicole made me wear. This whole time I’ve been half-naked in his arms—all right, I know all the important parts are covered and by MTV standards my clothes are practically dowdy, but for me this is exposed.
I’m not sure what to do. Should I kick and scream, demanding he put me down right now? Leap out of his arms—and likely fall flat on my face again thanks to Nicole’s amazing disappearing ankle trick? Enjoy the sensation of being held while his head dips down, inching closer and closer to mine—
“Ah-hem.”
Startled, I look up to see Stella standing in our open doorway. She has her hands on her hips and looks like she caught us making out on the front steps.
Griffin’s ears are red with embarrassment.
Without saying a word he drops me on the steps, nods to Stella, and jogs off across the yard.
“Just keep in mind,” Stella snaps, “that you are supposed to be stealing Griffin away for me, not from me.”
I nod absently, not focused on her but on the spot where Griffin had just disappeared over the hill. Holding onto the doorjamb so I don’t fall over, I can’t waste energy worrying about her being mad at me.
Griffin Blake had been about to kiss me!
And stupid Stella had to interrupt.
PrincessCesca: did he wet his lips?
LostPhoebe: no
PrincessCesca: did he close his eyes?
Going for broke, I say, “She thinks you got her parents banished.”
His jaw clamps shut.
“I don’t know why she thinks so, but she—”
“It’s true.”
My mouth drops open. “It’s what? Why would you do that?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes, but somehow I get the feeling he’s rolling them at himself and not me. “Not on purpose,” he says sadly. “I promise you that.”
How do you get someone banished accidentally?
“What happened?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. “She said you testified at MountOlympus and—”
“Drop it.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” I insist. “How can you not taking responsibility for something get her parents—”
“I said drop it!”
I jerk back at his outburst—though I can’t get far since I’m still cradled in his arms. Even though he sounds even angrier than when I was taunting him in the qualifying race, his grip on me remains relaxed. From the way he’s clenching his jaw and staring straight ahead I’m pretty sure I’m not getting any more conversation out of him.
I can’t stand the tension-rich silence.
“Do you know where you’re going to college?” I ask, hoping he’ll go for the change of subject.
No response. Shocking.
“I’m going to USC next year,” I say, filling the silence with my own voice. “Hopefully, I’ll get a cross-country scholarship. I just have to make a B average and do well in our meets and the coach says he’ll give me a full ride, which I’ll really need since Mom’s not working anymore and I don’t expect Damian to pay for anything because—”
“Oxford,” Griffin blurts. “I’m going to Oxford.”
Apparently he’s no match for babbling girls. I’ll have to keep that in mind in the future.
Remembering that Stella has the same plan, I ask, “Does everyone at the Academy go to Oxford?”
“The school has an . . . arrangement with the university administration.”
“What are you going to study?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to add, “Mythology?” but I decide against the sarcasm. At the moment he’s being heroic, but tomorrow at school is fair game and I don’t want to end up zapped to the ceiling in my underwear or anything.
“Economics.”
That’s it. One word response.
Not that I expect more.
“I’m going to study sports medicine. I want to be an athletic trainer, maybe for a college or the Olympic team or something.”
He grunts, which I take to be his confirmation that he heard what I said but doesn’t plan on replying. Which is fine, because I can keep on talking.
“I know I can’t run forever—even though I know there are always old guys in the Boston Marathon and stuff like that—but I have to make a living somehow. And this way I still get to be involved in sports without worrying when my knees are going to give out and—”
“We’re here.”
Lost in my one-sided conversation, I didn’t even realize we’d crossed the lawn, passed the school, and made it to the front steps of Damian’s house.
I do notice, however, that Griffin does not immediately drop me on my behind and run away as fast as he can.
Maybe it’s the hero contract.
“Well, thanks,” I say, even though he didn’t help me purely out of the goodness of his heart.
Still, he doesn’t put me down.
He does look at me, though, his bright blue eyes intent on mine.
It is a frozen moment—I can’t move or speak or react at all.
Helpless in his arms, silence ringing in my ears, I notice for the first time all the sensations. The feel of his heart pounding in his chest. His radiating heat. His arms against the bare skin of my legs and shoulder—
Oh. My. God.
I totally forgot the skimpy little running outfit Nicole made me wear. This whole time I’ve been half-naked in his arms—all right, I know all the important parts are covered and by MTV standards my clothes are practically dowdy, but for me this is exposed.
I’m not sure what to do. Should I kick and scream, demanding he put me down right now? Leap out of his arms—and likely fall flat on my face again thanks to Nicole’s amazing disappearing ankle trick? Enjoy the sensation of being held while his head dips down, inching closer and closer to mine—
“Ah-hem.”
Startled, I look up to see Stella standing in our open doorway. She has her hands on her hips and looks like she caught us making out on the front steps.
Griffin’s ears are red with embarrassment.
Without saying a word he drops me on the steps, nods to Stella, and jogs off across the yard.
“Just keep in mind,” Stella snaps, “that you are supposed to be stealing Griffin away for me, not from me.”
I nod absently, not focused on her but on the spot where Griffin had just disappeared over the hill. Holding onto the doorjamb so I don’t fall over, I can’t waste energy worrying about her being mad at me.
Griffin Blake had been about to kiss me!
And stupid Stella had to interrupt.
PrincessCesca: did he wet his lips?
LostPhoebe: no
PrincessCesca: did he close his eyes?
