Goddess Boot Camp(40)

“Really?”

“And they have seriously limited access.”

“I don’t know much more,” he says. “What do you want to know?”

There are so many possible questions. How far back do the records go? What else do the archives hold? Who files the documents? But there is only one question I care about.

“I want to know how someone would steal one of the records—”

Griffin stumbles again. “You don’t want to—”

“—and why they would steal the record of my dad’s trial.”

“Someone stole that?” he asks as we slow to a walk. “How do you know?”

“Because when Nicole and I went looking for it yesterday, it was gone.”

“So that’s how . . .” He shakes his head, scowling, and then starts over. “That’s how you knew about the archives.”

I’m pretty sure that’s not what he started to say.

“I don’t know why someone would steal your dad’s record,” he replies. “There’s a rumor about a secret entrance to the library. If someone wanted to get in and out of the secret archives unnoticed, that might be how.”

Great. A rumor of a secret entrance to the secret archives. How is that supposed to help me? I feel like I’ve been dropped into the middle of a Harry Potter book. Next, some evil genius is going to be plotting to kill me.

We finish our cooldown laps and make our way through the tunnel to the campus quad. As we reemerge into the morning sun, I hang back a step to admire Griffin in his fresh-from-a-workout glory. His nicely tanned arms and legs are glistening with sweat, the moisture catching the low-angle sun like a mirror rippling with every move of his lean muscles.

When he realizes I’m not at his side, Griffin turns, catches me ogling, and his mouth spreads in that cocky grin I love so much.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases.

“Maybe.” I saunter up to him, then—unable to keep up the coy act—wrap my arms around his neck and tug him close until our foreheads touch. “You have a problem with me looking?”

Shaking his head slowly against mine, he hums, “Huh-uh.”

Then his hand cups the back of my neck and he pulls my mouth the few inches to meet his. I love the feel of his soft lips against mine. Nine months of kissing him whenever I want and I still can’t get enough.

I slip my arms farther around his neck, stretching myself into him and up into the kiss. When he drops his hands to press against my lower back, shivers race down my spine and over my exhausted muscles. He’s mine, all mine. No one else gets to kiss him like this.

An image—a memory—flashes into my mind. Of Griffin. Of me watching him across the crowded school cafeteria while he is locked in exactly this embrace. With Adara.

I jerk back.

It feels like a bucket of ice water emptied over me.

Removing myself from Griffin’s arms, I take a step back.

“I, uh . . .” The stabbing pain around my heart is worse than any lactic-acid buildup. I know it isn’t fair, holding something from the past against him. But is it really in the past? I can’t think. I need to get away from him so my brain can return to seminormal function. “Gotta go.”

“Yeah,” he says, breathing heavy. “You’d better hurry if you’re getting a shower before camp.”

Right. Camp.

I glance down at my sweat-soaked I RUN THEREFORE I AM CRAZY T-shirt and shorts. For a second I consider going as is—and taking every opportunity to brush my stinky self up against Adara. But then I remember my dignity—and her e-mail last night about not wearing shorts. As much as I’d like to completely ignore her instructions, I don’t want to wind up bit by a snake or a hydra or some other creepy-crawly just to spite her. With my luck, today would be fight-a-mythological-monster day.

“You’re right,” I say before I get sucked into those bright blue eyes for a lifetime or two. “I need a shower.” Pressing a quick kiss to his mouth, I ask, “Maybe you can come by after you get back from Serifos?”

“I’ll have to help Aunt Lili put everything away.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “But I’ll try to steal away. Why don’t we meet at the dock at seven for a sunset walk on the beach.”

“We could always fit in another training run,” I tease.

Griffin groans. “Are you trying to kill me?”

I glance at my watch and realize just how late I am.

“Of course not,” I say, backing away across the quad. “If you were dead, who would I train with?”





“Today we are going to do a team exercise called Navigator,” Stella explains as I try to slip unnoticed into the group assembled behind the maintenance shed. She glares at me. I’m not that late. A minute or two. Five at the most.