“They just bug me,” said Jack, eating a French fry.
“Something happened,” she said. “He’ll tell me eventually.” She stole one of his fries.
“Hey,” he said. “You got a plate full of your own.”
“I know, but yours just look crispier than mine,” said Stacey.
“You know,” said Griffin. “I think Jack and Leigh got crispier fries.” He took one off my plate and popped it in his mouth.
I glared at him. “I get one of yours, then.”
“So, when are you two going to admit that you’re totally smitten with each other?” said Stacey.
Griffin choked on the fry.
* * *
“Look,” said Griffin as we walked up the stairs to my apartment. “What she said, it’s not... It’s important to me that you’re safe, but not because of anything... you know, like that.”
I opened the door to the apartment. “Believe me, I know that. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I mean, she doesn’t even know us. We just met her. She strikes me as the kind of person who says whatever floats to the top of her mind anyway.”
He laughed, closing the door after me. “Yeah, she sure does talk, doesn’t she?”
I went to the refrigerator to put my leftovers from The Purple Fiddle in there. “Besides, I know exactly why you follow me everywhere and watch me constantly. It’s because of my dad. Right?” I closed the refrigerator door and looked up at him.
He didn’t have a takeout box. He stood next to the window. It was afternoon, and the sun was streaming in behind him, giving him a halo. “Uh, right.”
“You’re like a guardian angel,” I said.
“Trust me, doll, I’m no angel.” He moved away from the window, across the room to the couch. He slept there, and usually he was good about folding up all the blankets. But he must have forgotten this morning, because it still looked like a bed. He picked up a blanket and started folding it.
“Well, you’re not interested in me. Because that one time I tried to kiss you, you got really freaked out. You weren’t into it at all.”
He continued folding the blanket, making it smaller and smaller. “Yeah. It’s, um, not like that.”
“Trust me. I get it. It’s all about my dad. You owe my dad for saving you. It has nothing to do with me. I mean, you probably don’t even like me. Why would you? All I’ve done is cause you problems. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be involved with me either.”
He set the blanket on the couch. He picked up the sheet and began to fold it. “Of course I like you, doll.”
“You do? Because I kind of got the impression that you wanted to murder me.”
He chuckled. “I’m trying to keep people from murdering you.”
I smiled. “Well, I like you too. You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re kind of right. About everything. And I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”
He set down the sheet. He caught my eye. He was smiling too. We stood like that, in the afternoon light, smiling at each other across the living room. It was nice.
I took a step towards him.
He broke eye contact. “So, I just wanted to make sure you understood that.”
“Understood what?”
“That I don’t have feelings for you,” he told the couch.
Oh, right. That was what we had been talking about. I had been distracted. When we were looking at each other like that, it had seemed as if... But he was saying... I straightened a pillow on my recliner. “No. Of course I understand.”
“It’s not because I don’t like you. You’ve been through a lot. And dealing with drugs is tough for everyone. I think you’re great. I really do.” He sat down on the couch. “It’s just because of your dad.”
“That’s what I said before.” I straightened the pillow more. I wasn’t sure how much straighter I could actually get it.
“And because it wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said. “Because if I got involved with you, then I wouldn’t be as good at protecting you.”