“I am sorrier than you can imagine,” he says.

“Yeah—” I take a deep breath. “I know.”

“Does that mean I’m—”

“Forgiven? No.” I smile when his face falls. “Not yet.”

His smile returns.

“But you will be.”

With one small step he closes the distance between us. My heart starts racing as he lifts his hand to my cheek. His fingertips hover over my temple. I can feel his heat even though he isn’t actually touching me.

Then he leans forward—like in slow motion—until his face is micrometers from mine.

The smile in his bright blue eyes vanishes. My eyes flutter closed—the anticipation is killing me. I haven’t kissed anyone since that jerk I used to date—what was his name?—and I feel like I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more than I want to kiss Griffin Blake right now.

His lips brush mine. Barely. Just a tickle, really.

But it’s more than enough.

My entire body sparks like the fireworks from bonfire night.

It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s not kissing me anymore. I reluctantly open my eyes to find him inches away. His smile is back.

“Come on,” he says, taking me by the hand. “I promised Coach I’d give you a good workout.” He tugs and I stumble after him.

“We’ve got another mile left on our warm-up. Then the real work begins.”

Hand in hand—okay, so it’s not the best training technique—we finish our run. And the rest of the workout.

All I can think the whole time is, “When did my life get so good?”

Chapter 10

“MORNING,” GRIFFIN SAYS when he appears at my locker.

“Want an escort to Tyrant’s class?”

He leans in and kisses me, really briefly, on the lips.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I say, still marveling at how much my life has changed since yesterday. “Do you want to go into the village after school?”

I grab my copy of Ulysses and throw it in my bag.

When Griffin doesn’t answer, I add, “Maybe we could go for ice cream.”

After zipping up my backpack, I slam my locker shut and turn to take my place at Griffin’s side. That’s when I see why he stopped talking.

Nicole and Troy are standing a few feet away, looking like they’re contemplating murder. Great, I wanted the chance to tell them about this before they saw us together. To explain before they jump to conclusions.

Then Griffin shows up at my locker and I forget all my good intentions.

“Hey guys,” I say, trying to sound like everything’s perfectly normal. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing with him?” Nicole demands.

Troy doesn’t say anything, just crosses his arms over his blink182 tee and glares.

“I should go,” Griffin says as he starts to back away.

“No,” I say, grabbing his arm. “Don’t go.” If he and I are going to be together, then Nicole and Troy come with the package. It’ll be better for everyone if we air things out now.

He moves to my side and I slip my arm around his. Nicole’s scowl deepens.

“As of yesterday,” she says, sneering, “you hated his guts.”

“I know.” I squeeze his arm tighter so he knows that’s all changed. “But we talked things through.”

“You were nothing but a bet to him,” Troy finally says.

“No!” Griffin shouts. “That’s not true. It was never just about the bet.”

Nicole snorts. “Right, as if we’d ever trust anything you say.”

There’s a sudden tension in the air, an electricity that’s about something much more deep-rooted than my fight with Griffin. Nicole looks ready to unleash her powers on him, regardless of the consequences.

They’ve kept their feelings about the past—about whatever ended their friendship and disrupted their parents’ lives—long enough. I know that Troy is mainly upset out of loyalty to me, for the heartache Griffin had caused, and to Nicole, for whatever she believes Griffin did to her. If we work through the problem with Nicole . . . well, at least it will be a start.

“I think it’s time to confront the past.” Boy, do I sound like therapist Mom, or what? “Both of you have been avoiding this for too long.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” Nicole snaps, “except a lying, two-faced traitor.” She spits on the ground before turning and stalking away.

I nudge Griffin in the ribs and he steps forward.

“Nicole, wait,” he says. “Phoebe is right.”

She doesn’t turn around or say anything, but she stops walking away.

“We were friends once,” Griffin continues. “Can’t we put the past behind us? I know that things ended badly with us—”

“Badly?” She spins around. “Badly!? Considering everything that happened, I think ‘badly’ is an understatement.”

Griffin steps back from her outrage. I grab his hand and lace our fingers together—for support . . . and to keep him from running. He squeezes tight and I can feel his pulse racing. He is just as skilled at hiding his emotions as Nicole, and they are not going to work through this without help.

“He wasn’t trying to diminish the past,” I say. “He just wants to talk about—”

“Forget it, she doesn’t want to talk,” Griffin interrupts. “I’m sorry for whatever you think I did back then and for whatever harm you think I caused, but I think you’re exaggerating the situation.”