Free One Last Chance by Shelby Gates Page B

toward their room.
    “What?”
    “I’m assuming that people will just look at us together and assume we were in a car accident,” she said. “Me with the limp, you with the busted up face.”
    “Or, we’re really unskilled gymnasts.”
    “Or, MMA fighters! That would be cool!”
    “Or, just clumsy,” he said.
    “Yeah, maybe that.”
    They both laughed as they reached the door to the room.
    “So are we just changing our clothes so we don’t look ridiculously overdressed for the buffet?” he asked.
    She made a face at him. “Look, I look good in this dress and I cannot say that often about anything I wear. So I’m staying in it for the rest of the night.” She paused. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
    “Are you not hungry?”
    She sighed and slid her card into the reader on the door. “Foolish man.”
    She pushed open the door, put her hand on the small of his back and propelled him forward.
    A small table sat in the middle of the room, covered with a white table cloth. Full plates with food were on either side.
    “It looks like our table from the dining room,” he said, disbelieving.
    “That’s because it is,” she said, triumphantly. “The guy who vouched for you? I had a little conversation with him when you insisted on going to use the bathroom to clean up your face before we went down to see the doctor. He got it done.”
    “Wow,” was all Griffin could manage.
    She limped over to the table and took her seat. “Are you coming?”
    He shook his head, laughed and sat across from her. “You are something else.”
    “Yeah, I really am,” she said, grinning, obviously pleased that she’d surprised him. “But this does come with a price.”
    “Uh-oh.”
    She nodded. “Yeah. Uh-oh.”
    He wanted to kick the table out of the way, pick her up and throw her on the bed and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. “What’s the price?”
    She rested her elbows next to her plate and tented her fingers beneath her chin. “I want to know why.”
    “Why what?”
    She swallowed, stared at her fingers for a moment, then at him. “I want to know why you broke up with me in high school.”

EIGHTEEN
     
     
    Griffin reached for the bottle of wine on the table and poured.
    Claire watched him. “Or not.”
    He shook his head. She was just as impatient as ever. He was going to tell her. But he needed a drink to steady his nerves. And to give him courage.
    They’d never talked after the Prom fiasco. He’d broken up with her and two weeks later, they’d graduated. She’d walked out of his life. Forever. And he’d missed her ever since.
    “Give me a minute.” He uncorked the bottle and poured the merlot into the empty wine glasses.
    He handed her a glass. “First,” he said. “A toast.”
    “Another one?” she asked.
    “You can’t ever have too many toasts.” He held his glass up and looked at her. “To new beginnings.”
    Her brow furrowed but she clinked her glass against his and took a small sip.
    And waited.
    “OK,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “Where do I start?”
    “Well, since we just toasted new beginnings, I’d say that’s a good place to start. You know, the beginning.”
    He nodded. “Right. OK.”
    He took a deep breath. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He felt like some punk high-school kid, getting ready to ask out the girl of his dreams. He smiled at the analogy. Because here he was, sitting with the girl of his dreams. And she had no idea that’s what she’d been to him. What she still was.
    “Did you know I had a crush on you in high school?” he asked.
    “A crush?” She thought for a minute. “No. We dated, Griffin. Remember?”
    He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I remember. But did you know I had a crush on you? Like, before we dated?”
    She shook her head. “You did not. You never even looked at me.”
    “I looked at you all the time.”
    “No, you didn’t. You teased me all the time.”
    He sipped his wine, letting the alcohol