What Happened That Night (Wattpad Books Edition)

chapter three

before

Somewhere, somehow, at some point between six and sixteen, I'd fallen in love with Griffin Tomlin.

Love might be one of the stronger words to describe an attraction toward someone with ocean-blue eyes and a laugh as infectious as the common cold, but between the summer nights of gazing through my window at his house and the block parties, it began to feel like the right one.

My feelings seemed kind of ridiculous, especially since he never once showed any interest in me. There were a few moments that almost made me wonder if he cared—like one time, during one of my parents' parties, all the teenagers decided to play basketball and Griffin picked me for his team on his fourth turn—but eventually, after analyzing each of those rare instances, I realized these were just moments of niceness, which almost hurt more than him ignoring me. He kept inviting other girls over to his house and texting them on his phone during block parties, and then he invited Amy Gard to junior prom. Later I overheard him telling Kolby that they did it in the back seat of her dad's Toyota afterward.

Griffin Tomlin was not in love with me. He didn't even like me like me.

Or at least that was what I'd thought until the night of our school's production of Into the Woods, when I saw him in the audience, sitting with Kolby Rutledge on his right and his parents on his left, watching as I sang about pitch, and shoes, and decisions. Then, as the song concluded, he grinned at me and lifted his hand in a wave before the stage lights went dark.

After the play ended and the rest of the cast members, still in their costumes, gathered in the school lobby for fruit punch and themed cookies, I spotted my family near the entrance, the playbills in their hands. I realized after a moment, however, that it wasn't just my family, but that my sister had brought her boyfriend, Wilson Westbrooke, and I could already feel myself getting annoyed. They had only been going out for a few months, but she brought him everywhere, even to my birthday dinner the month before. He was also four years older than her, never washed his shoulder-length hair, and sometimes vaguely smelled like weed.

I was about to wave at them anyway when two strong arms— sun-kissed and muscular—wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground. It wasn't until I saw Kolby pouring a glass of fruit punch at the snack table, alone, that I realized the toned stomach pressed against my back was Griffin's. Suddenly I was self-conscious that I might be too heavy for him or that the stage makeup might make me look like a raccoon up close.

"Clara!" he said.

I'm in Griffin Tomlin's arms, I thought, and I hoped he would never, ever put me down.

"Who would have thought that our very own Clara could sing and dance, huh? Did you think so, Kolby?"

"You were really good, Clara," Kolby responded, grabbing a cookie shaped like a crown from one of the platters on the table. "Good? Just good?" Griffin repeated. I felt his arms loosen as he let me drop onto the floor, the soles of my shoes making a smacking sound as I landed. I wanted him to put his arms back around me before they'd even left my sides.

"It's all right," I said, even though I wasn't quite sure what I was saying was all right. I glanced up at Griffin, feeling a jolt in my chest when he looked back down at me. "I'm really glad you came. You didn't have to. I mean, I'm really glad you did but it wasn't—it was just really nice of you," I said.

Griffin bent down and pressed his lips against my cheek. "Anything for you, Cinderella," he whispered against my ear.

I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from reacting as he reached over and grabbed a sugar cookie in the shape of a glass slipper, winking at me as he bit off the heel before my parents finally spotted me.