"Violet?"
"Huh, what?"
The sound of her name jerked Violet back to reality, and she realized, to her horror, that Griffin had been talking this whole time while her mind had been a thousand miles away.
"You okay?" His voice was casual, but there was a thread of genuine concern underneath it. "You were completely out of it."
Violet straightened immediately, forcing herself to focus. "Oh! Yeah. I’m good. Perfect. You were saying?"
Griffin didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it slide.
He continued. "I was saying... thank you. For what you did out there on the field today. If it weren’t for your ..." He paused, as if searching for the right word, then smirked. "...motivation, we would’ve lost to Asher’s team."
Violet let out a short laugh, waving it off. "Oh, that? It was nothing."
"It wasn’t nothing." His voice was firm, holding an intensity that made her pulse zigzag.
Damn.
Then, in a lighter tone, Griffin added, "Although, I don’t think I’ll be getting that dance out of my head anytime soon." A low, rumbling chuckle followed his words, deep and unapologetically masculine.
And just like that, a hot pulse of heat shot through Violet, settling in places it had no business settling in.
Oh no.
This was bad. She was lusting after Griffin. She was mentally cheating on Alaric with his best friend.
To make matters so much worse, Griffin ran a hand through his hair, the motion so lazy—so careless yet undeniably sensual—that Violet found herself staring, her throat suddenly dry.
Since when was a man’s hair seductive?
Violet had never cared much for men with long hair, but Griffin wore his like a goddamn warrior prince.
God.
What the hell was happening to her?
This wasn’t her.
This wasn’t who she was, and she needed to get her shit together.
"Nonetheless, thank you" Griffin said, oblivious to the absolute chaos in her head.
Thank the gods she caught his words this time.
Violet forced a small, strained smile. "You’re welcome."
A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy. It was as if they both had something to say... but neither could bring themselves to say it.
They could only stare at each other, the rest of the party fading into the background.
Then as if his senses returned, Griffin gestured vaguely behind him. "I think I’ll head back—"
"Your hair!"
The words shot out of Violet’s mouth before she could stop them.
Griffin stopped dead.
She had spoken so abruptly, she might as well have shouted it into a microphone. Hence, a few students actually turned to look.
Griffin blinked. "...What?"
Violet swallowed.
Alright. It was too late to back out now.
"I know this might sound weird—crazy, even—but... can I touch your hair?"
And the result was instant. Violet swore she saw Griffin go red.
He stammered. "Y-you want to... touch my hair?"
Griffin looked at her like she had just asked if she could lick his abs.
Perhaps, seeing his stunned expression, Violet realized just how ridiculous her request sounded, so she quickly rephrased.
"I mean, braid it. You must need someone to braid your hair. I’m exceptionally good at it. Trust me, I won’t tug too hard."
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