Chapter Sixty-Seven
Griffin
Feet propped on the coffee table, I lean back in the plush couch and review the latest draft of the research paper Keith and I have been working on for months. Everything’s been labeled correctly, our analysis is perfect so far as I can see and the math is impeccable. Whoever wants to disagree with our conclusions better have some good arguments, because this paper is tight.
Life has returned to normal. I finally stopped making wrong turns toward Sierra’s house last week. I deleted all of Axelrod’s music from my phone, but only because I decided I don’t like the band anymore. The weird burning feeling I get in my gut from time to time is clearly stress over the paper.
And I most certainly do not get an erection while walking by the apples in grocery stores.
Of course, there are the continued stares from the damned faculty. They couldn’t gawk more idiotically if I grew a horn in the middle of my forehead. Every time our gazes meet, they flinch and turn away.
Assholes.
My phone rings. My instinct is to ignore it, but it’s from Emmett.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, we got a box from you,” he says.
I pause for a second. “I didn’t send you anything.”
“It came through Sierra,” Amy explains.
What the…?I told her to throw out my things, not forward them to my brother! Especially to Emmett, who’s so happy right now, it has to be morbidly annoying. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No,” Amy says.
“That should never have gone to you!” It’s probably something as stupid and juvenile as a pair of my underwear she found at the bottom of her laundry basket.
“We don’t mind.” Emmett doesn’t sound particularly disgusted. And Amy doesn’t sound perturbed. Actually, she seems more excited than anything.
Oh no, damn it!I know exactly what Sierra did. An upthrust, straightened middle finger over the breakup. “They’re in beta testing!”
“How do you beta-test a dildo?” Emmett asks.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I don’t want to know. She’s crazy!” I shout because she’s driving me crazy. Again. After I worked so hard to scrub her out of my life.
“Who?” Amy asks.
“Sierra!” I rapidly go over all the things she’s done that I don’t like. Her tardiness at the company and the saucy, irreverent sense of humor and… “The woman never follows a schedule. She never plans for anything. She respects nothing! She thinks life is fun and games! Wears really annoying perfume—”
“What’s annoying about her perfume?” Emmett says.
Shit, I meant the apple scent, which isn’t perfume—I know because I checked her vanity—but I don’t feel like correcting myself. “It’s distracting!”
Neither Emmett nor Amy says anything.
“She laughs too much,” I continue. “Smiles all the time, for no reason. And she’s so fucking pink!”
“What’s wrong with pink?” Amy asks.
It makes me think of Sierra—her dresses, her sheets, her mouth, her…
Damn it, my cock’s getting hard. And I’m talking to my brother!
My dick’s obviously broken. And it’s Sierra’s fault. “Everything! It’s so…bright. It’s just wrong!”
“So.” Emmett clears his throat. “What I hear you saying is she’s fun. Spontaneous. Laughs a lot. Smiles a lot, too. And smells good.”