Cupid's Guide to Murder

Chapter 18: Shot By Cupid's Arrow

Morning sunlight spilled through the windows. I rolled over in bed, waking up to a slight throbbing headache. As I placed my fingers on my temple and moved strands of hair off my face, I caught Griffin. He was leafing through the letters from yesterday, a frustrated expression on his face.

"Good morning," I said. "What time is it?"

"Morning." He smiled. "It's about to be 11."

"What?! We overslept?" I paused, realizing that Griffin had already changed into a clean black t-shirt and black jeans. Despite his tousled hair, his appearance was non-disheveled. "I overslept. Why didn't you wake me up?"

He cracked a small smile. "You seemed tired, Have. I wanted to let you sleep in. It's Saturday, anyway."

"Right." I checked my phone, looking at the unanswered texts from Justin. And then I glanced back at Griffin to see if there was any indication of his confession from last night. If anything had changed. But he looked normal, as if last night had never happened.

He caught me staring and stopped looking through the letters. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Um..." My heart was beating, and it felt like it was in my throat. But nothing had changed on Griffin's face. "No, nothing. We can go back."

I brushed my teeth and washed my face, trying to clear my thoughts. Confusing feelings about Griffin were not part of the plan at all. I couldn't let him mess with my head. The plan was to find out what happened to Natasha, and that was it.

If he wasn't bringing last night up, neither was I.

On the drive back, I snuck a glance at Griffin's face. His hooded coffee-brown eyes were on the road, and his hand dangled casually on the window.

An unfamiliar feeling ran through my stomach, an emotion I couldn't place. I looked away, putting my head on the cool glass of the window. I could've sworn I felt his eyes on me instead now, but I didn't look back to check.

When he pulled up to my home, I heard him let out a small, "Shit."

"What happened?"

I followed his gaze to see a cop car in my driveway. The familiar anxiety crept back into the pit of my stomach, and I absent-mindedly tugged at a strand of my hair.

"Oh, shit is right," I muttered.

"Do you want me to come in?" Griffin said.

"No," I said a little too quickly. When I saw the look on Griffin's face, I quickly said, "Not because I don't want you at my house. We probably shouldn't be together in front of the cops because it'll look bad."

My mom would grill me on why I was with the school's notorious delinquent, but Griffin didn't need to know that.

"You're right," Griffin said after a second. "Text me if you need anything at all."

"I will. Oh, by the way. There's the annual charity formal thing they plan every year. Well, duh, because that's what annual means. But you should come. If you want to, and if you have time," I said. The words came crashing out, and I held my breath, waiting for his response.

He licked his lips uncertainly. "Uh, I've heard about it. But I don't come to that type of thing."

Oh. I felt a surge of disappointment and tried to force a bright smile.

"No yeah, I get it. It's not like a big deal or anything," I said. It was stupid to think that Griffin would come and even sillier of me to care that he wasn't. "Sorry. I... it's stupid."

"No, it's not." Griffin licked his lips. "I like the cause, but it feels like it's just a competition for wealthy parents to show how much money they have. I don't think I'd belong," Griffin said. He wouldn't quite meet my eye, and I felt a wave of tenderness for him.