“I know what you mean,” Griffon says a little sadly. “You try to do big things, you know? Things that might change the world. But then you come up here and realize that you’re just one tiny person in the middle of it all.” He turns to look at me. “You’re cold. We should go.”
“No, not just yet.” I glance up at him, feeling the sharp wind but not wanting this night to end. “I want to stay for just a little while longer. It’s beautiful.”
“Come here,” he says, pulling me closer. “I’ll keep you warm.”
I stand in front of him, leaning my head back almost imperceptibly until it rests on his chest. Even through our jackets, I can feel the hum of his vibrations, and I inhale, trying to keep his scent so that I can remember it when I’m at home alone. I don’t care what he can do—if he can name every date on the calendar or have a one-man show at the biggest art gallery in the city. I just know that I want to be with him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in the world.
After a few moments, Griffon relaxes and slowly puts one arm around me. I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck as he bends his head down toward mine, and the sensation causes me to visibly tense. Despite the shivers traveling up my spine, I try to stay still, not knowing if he’s just trying to warm me up, but not wanting to break the energy that’s forming between us.
I try to keep my focus on the tiny lights of the cars as they cross the bridge, but Griffon’s fingertips pull my hair aside and his lips brush the back of my neck so gently it seems like I’m imagining it. Barely breathing, I close my eyes as his lips trace my neck and then plant small kisses just below my ear. Unable to stand still any longer, I turn to face him, threading my hands under his jacket until I can feel the warm cotton of the back of his shirt.
Griffon pulls back and looks at me. Even in the darkness I can see the indecision on his face, and I will it to be just a few seconds earlier when his lips were still on my skin.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he says, and reaches behind his back to unclasp my hands. He steps back toward the bike, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. The moment was perfect, and now it’s gone.
“It’s okay. You can tell me if you’ve got a girlfriend.”
“It’s not that,” he says loudly. Griffon rakes his fingers through his hair. “I only wish it were that easy.” He paces in the dirt for a few seconds, kicking up little puffs of dust that disappear over the ridge. “I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you,” he finally says, standing several feet away from me. He starts pacing again. “I really shouldn’t be doing this—”
I hold my hands up, afraid of what he might say next. “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t want to do anything to come between you and anyone else—”
“There is no one else,” he says quickly. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Not like you mean it. I haven’t had one in this lifetime. Intentionally.”
I stand still, waiting for more of an explanation. I find it hard to believe that he’s telling the truth, but the look on his face is almost painful.
Griffon sighs and moves closer to me. “Remember when you asked me if I was hundreds of years old? In the park that day?”
I nod. “But you said that you’re only seventeen.”
“I wasn’t lying, I am only seventeen,” he says. “But I have memories of being twenty and thirty-five. More than once. Damn, Cole—I’ve been married before. Been a parent before.” It looks like the memories cause him pain. “When I do get involved with someone, I wait until I’m older, until I can meet people whose life experiences match mine.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying not to picture him with an older woman. “I don’t care how old you are.”
“It does matter,” he insists. “It’s like a creepy older guy going out with a hot young teenager.”
I look down at the ground as he speaks, trying hard to keep the smile off my lips at those last words. “Have you ever told anyone your secret like this?” I ask. He shakes his head quickly. “It’s only unfair if you keep the truth hidden. I’m not some poor innocent girl who doesn’t know anything about you. I know about your past. All of them. Besides, you said it yourself—I’m becoming one of you. Soon enough, things will be equal.”
I watch him consider this, happy that for once I can tell him something that he didn’t already realize. Just as my resolve begins to waver, he walks toward me, his footsteps no longer kicking up dust, but decisive and strong. I say nothing as he bends down and presses his lips against mine in a kiss that feels like it’s hundreds of years overdue.
Twelve
“A whole week.” I flop onto Rayne’s bed and grab a pillow, hugging it to my chest like I need something to fill the space that feels so empty. I’ve been trying so hard not to cry, but every time I think back to last Sunday night, hot tears prick the backs of my eyelids. Everything was perfect. Griffon was there, really there, with me that night, and now he’s gone. “It’s been a whole week, and nothing from him.”
Rayne flops down beside me and strokes my hair. From anyone else, I’d resent the gesture, would hate feeling like a pathetic baby. But from her, it’s okay. “Not true,” she says. “He texted you on Monday.”
I roll over and look up at her. “Okay. Five days. Like that’s any better.”
“Maybe they had to go somewhere in an emergency,” she says. “Maybe his dad is getting knighted by the queen and they had to fly all the way to England to see it.”
“Phones work in England,” I say into the pillow. “Face it, he’s not into me.”
“How can someone kiss you for the first time looking over the whole city and not really like you?”
“I don’t know.” I can hear my voice straining at the thought and take a deep breath to try to calm down. I’ve played the whole night over in my head a hundred times. What had I said wrong? Had I done anything stupid? Stupider than usual? “He says all this stuff, kisses me up on the hill, and then it’s like he just dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Did you call him?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want to look needy.”
Rayne stares at me. “Mmm-hmm. You’re looking like a pillar of strength right now.”
I sit up and brush the stray hair off my face. “I just have to deal with it. Griffon doesn’t really like me. I’m okay single. God knows I’ve had enough practice.”
“Oh, Cole, I can tell even you don’t believe that. There has to be an explanation. I saw you two together.”
“Come on,” I say, pushing off the bed and sounding a lot more casual than I feel. All of this wondering has built up nervous energy that I have to do something about. “Are we going out or what? I didn’t come over here to talk about Griffon all day. Mom gave me money to buy some clothes, and I’m not planning on wasting it.” I also don’t want to sit around all day staring at my cell wondering if Griffon is ever going to call.
“Fine,” Rayne says. “Downtown or the Mission?”
“Downtown,” I say, suddenly in the mood for big crowds and chain stores.
Rayne slings her big suede hobo bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Even though summer is still over a month away, the cable car turnaround at Powell Street is nearly invisible through the crowds as we get off the bus.
Rayne looks back at me. “You really want to do this?” She’s more of a Haight Street shopper than a Union Square one.
“Absolutely,” I say, my fake cheerful mood starting to push the heavy weight off my chest. “Let’s go this way down Market Street. I’ve been dying for a cream puff from the guy at City Center. Be nice to me and I’ll buy you one, too.”