"Griffin, let him go. Griffin!" The second time I said his name, Griffin dropped Justin's collar from his grip, causing him to stagger back against the wall.

Griffin turned to look at me, the look in his eyes unreadable. He unclenched his bleeding fist.

"Are you okay?" I whispered. It was to both of them, but my eyes were on Griffin. A dark bruise framed his handsome face.

"Stay away from me and my fucking girl." Justin spit.

"Haven and I aren't anything. As for her not wanting you, that doesn't involve me at all." Griffin managed an almost cocky smile. "You can thank yourself for that one."

This time, Justin was the one throwing the punch.

"You guys, stop." My voice sounded hollow in my ears. "We're at a charity event. Do you know how bad it'll look if anyone sees this?"

"Him being here already looks bad," Justin taunted. "How'd you even afford that suit, huh? Did you steal it? Was it drug money?"

I stared at Justin, shocked, but he was oblivious. He grabbed my hand. "Let's get out of here," he muttered.

Griffin looked at our joined hands, his face clouding over. Before I could say anything, he stormed away.

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" I said, raising my hands in frustration and glaring at Justin.

"Me?" Justin shook his head. "I had to put him in his place. He wants to act all high and mighty, flirting with my girl? Everything about him is a fucking act. He's a loser, Haven. How can't you see that?"

"Stop talking about him like that," I snapped. "And I'm not your girl. You and me? We're done."

His eyes narrowed with disbelief.

"What, you're breaking up with me for him?" He sneered.

"For myself," I said.

I expected him to be pissed and argue. I didn't expect the words that came out of his mouth.

"Go after him. When he hurts you, don't come crying back to me. I don't want his trashy leftovers."

Without thinking, I slapped him, my face burning.

"I didn't mean to." Justin's eyes filled with regret, but it was too late.

"Never disrespect me like that again." I stepped back, still shaking in anger.

"Haven, I — "

I turned away before he could say anything else, ignoring his frustrated yell and disappearing around the corner to find Griffin. It was hard running in heels, but I held my dress as I rushed down the hall, seeing him still fuming, his fists bloodied.

"Griffin," I called. When he didn't respond, I moved closer to him, placing my fingers over his face, feather-soft.

He winced, but he didn't push me away. His chest heaved up and down.

"Does it hurt?" I whispered.

"What, you're talking to me now, but you have nothing to say when Pretty Boy is there?"

I almost flinched at his harshness, my hand dropping from his face.

"How are you angry at me right now?"

"I'm not," he groaned, his hand still in a fist. "Just please get out of my face."

"Griffin — "

"Leave!"

"Stop hurting yourself!" I said, tugging his arm away.

"Just leave," he repeated with a sense of defeat.

I stared at him squarely and shook my head. "No."

"What do you mean, no?" He looked at me with empty blue eyes, drained of their usual light.

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"I won't be alone. I'm going to leave this stupid fucking formal, go back home, and call someone over. She'll take real good care of me, don't worry." 

My stomach twisted. This wasn't like Griffin — this wasn't the boy I had feelings for. 

"You're not being nice," I said.

He leaned closer and laughed softly, but it was without kindness. "And that would only bother you if you had feelings for me."

I stepped back, my stomach twisting. "Not like this," I said. I turned around, attempting to maintain my stride with my heels. Finally, I got annoyed and took them off, scooping them into my hand.

It didn't matter that Griffin was nothing like Justin. If he was going to shut me out, I needed to leave.

"Wait. Stop." His voice was husky and pained. "Please."

I turned back, my heels still dangling from my grip, unable to meet his gaze. I wanted to walk away, but I also didn't.

He moved closer. "I'm sorry — I didn't mean any of that. He was just saying shit about my dad, and I got pissed. I can't take that out on you. I wasn't — I was never supposed to hurt you."

"What did he say about your dad?" I said. Even though the dress was fancy, I didn't care anymore. I sat down and placed my heels next to me, and he joined me on the floor. He rested his wrist on his knee before speaking.

"Do you remember the pool party at my house a few years ago?"

I nodded. How could I forget that night?

The night of our almost kiss.

"It's not... Well, it's not my house. Um, my dad and I are staying there for now. We're not exactly the world's richest people." He laughed dryly, his eyes fluttering up to meet mine briefly to see my expression. "It's my aunt's house. We're nowhere near as well off as everyone is here. Well, we're not well off at all. I guess that makes me a liar."

I reached over and took his hand, entwining them. He looked as if he wanted to pull away, but he didn't.

"Justin found out and was being a dick about it. I'm not exactly embarrassed about it, you know. It is what it is. I guess what he said is right, though. I'm the charity case at the charity event." He scoffed angrily.

"Material things are nothing in the end," I said. "I don't care what Justin or anyone says; it doesn't change who you are. You might try to hide it, but you're caring and better than half the assholes out there."

Griffin looked at me, and I saw the hint of the smile I loved. "You're cute when you're mad." He let out a long sigh, leaning his head against the wall. "Well, your opinion is one of the few things that matter."

"What can I say? I have a thing for people with big hearts," I teased, wanting to keep him smiling.

I saw the familiar twinkle return in his eyes. "Well, it's not the only big thing I have-"

"Griffin!" I laughed, my mouth dropping open. I pushed him slightly, but he grabbed my hand and didn't let go. I immediately felt butterflies in my stomach.

One touch from him, and I was gone.

"So, back to important things. You have a thing for me?"

I immediately felt my cheeks grow hot. "No."

He grew serious, and it made me nervous. "Justin pissed me off because he doesn't deserve you," he said. "Pent up anger, and I kept going and going..." he stopped. "I was almost scared of myself because if you didn't tell me to stop, I don't know if I would have."

He traced his fingers over my palm and continued in a low tone. "I was so mad I didn't see clearly. But then I saw your face and heard you, and I didn't want to fight anymore." He looked at me and softly said, "I don't think I like how much you affect me, Grey."

I moved closer to him, so our bodies were almost touching.

It was an intense gaze unfamiliar to our usual averting glances and moved to my lips. He looked back at me as if asking for permission, and I instinctively moved closer. He leaned in, moving his thumb to my mouth and softly touching it, making my heartbeat quicken.

I had imagined what kissing Griffin Keely would be like. I imagined it to be sultry and passionate, warm but desperate. He leaned in, gently at first but then deepening the kiss, taking the time to bite my lower lip gently.

I felt shy and looked downwards, and I felt him smile against my mouth. Shifting slightly, he kissed my face, touching it tenderly and then moving his lips down to my neck. I let out a little gasp, which seemed to please him as he snuck a hand around my waist and pulled me closer. I felt my heart beating against my chest, surprised that his kiss could do that to me.

Kissing him was everything I imagined and more.

When he looked back to meet my gaze, I moved closer and kissed him first, hungry for more. He winced a little, and I pulled back breathlessly, remembering he had just been in a fight.

"Sorry," I whispered, but he smiled.

"I've been waiting to do that for too long... I can take a little pain." His hand slid down to the small of my back, his fingers warm against the bare skin.

Before I could lean in to kiss him again, an icy voice stopped me.

"Haven."

I broke away from Griffin to see my mom. A displeased expression flashed across her face, but it was gone just as soon as it had come. "The driver is here."

"Mom-"

"We'll talk at home." She said, and her harsh tone surprised me. My mother had never yelled at me in public — not even close — and the edge in her voice surprised me. "Let's go."

"Mrs. Grey," Griffin said, standing up and extending his hand. "If you would like, I can bring your daughter home-"

"That won't be necessary, Griffin. Justin's out front, and he can ensure she gets back well."

Griffin dropped his hand, and I instantly looked at my mother with disbelief.

She gave him a forced tight smile before looking at me as if to say 'say goodbye and come.' She turned around and walked away, and I turned back to Griffin, my heart sinking at the look on his face.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying not to sound as miserable as I felt, sneaking a glance at his face to see if he was mad. "She's never rude to people. She doesn't know I broke up with Justin, and —"

Before I could finish, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. "Hey. If you think I waited this long and I'm going to let anything else get in the way, you're crazy," he whispered. He started trailing kisses on my neck, and I couldn't help smiling when I felt his tongue. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back and shivering as I felt his lips on my collarbone. "This isn't making it any easier to leave," I murmured.

"I know."

"Griffin, I have to go," I said, bringing his face back to mine. "But I'll talk to my mom. As soon as she knows what happened, everything will be okay." It has to be.

"Night Grey," he said. I felt my stomach flutter as he looked at me. Everyone's beautiful, but how he looked at me made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. "Text me when you get home."

"Good night," I said, standing on my tippy toes to give him one last kiss. I turned around and walked away, saving the way he looked at me so I could keep it forever.

I still reveled in Griffin's gaze as I crossed to the front of the ballroom when I saw her. Mrs. Ryan was below the gold arch and crystal chandelier. Her eyes, sharp like little icicles, were shooting daggers at the man standing next to her.

I glanced at his face, drawn to the sudden familiarity. The dark hair, sky-grey eyes, and hooked nose didn't quite go along with the rest of his features. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to place who he was, and then it clicked.

Natasha's father.

Natasha had told me her parents divorced, but nothing else. I always assumed it was because her father's identity held secrets she didn't want to share, and knowing about their divorce was enough. He was as good as a ghost, someone she didn't want to claim as her own. The bond between Natasha and her mother was close — it didn't matter if she didn't have a father figure in her life, just like her mother didn't need her husband. The two women were some of the strongest women I had ever met.

I squinted, noticing the name tag on the husband's blazer. My stomach twisted as soon as I made out the syllables to read Rick Langton.

Where had I heard that last name before?

Mr. Langston's eyes blazed with intense anger. "I don't trust half these kids, and you're inviting them into our house like they did nothing?"

Mrs. Ryan laughed, her wine-painted lips pressing together. "I know the difference between the kids that your son surrounded himself with and the kids that Natasha did. Natasha was a good kid, Rick. She wouldn't have gone through the same things that Darian did."

Darian.

Darian Langton. Suddenly, the pieces came together, and everything felt fuzzy. I grabbed onto the decorative pillar to steady myself.

If Darian was Mr. Langston's son, that meant that Natasha had a half-brother. One that she had never told me about, yet she'd kept a photo of him in her room when she hadn't even kept a photo of her father.

"Are you blaming Darian for what happened to him?" Mr. Langton scoffed. "You know, you could never accept him because you hated him. Blamed him for breaking apart our family."

Mrs. Ryan's eyes flooded with tears. "You don't know what you're saying."

"But Natasha? She didn't care that he wasn't blood. She treated him like family, damn it!" Mr. Langston slammed his hand against the pillar, making her flinch from the sudden impact. He stepped back, shaking his head slowly. "She was my daughter too, Diane." His voice cracked.

"You left this family," Mrs. Ryan hissed. "You don't deserve to come back now to clean the mess." The pain etched over her features, and she looked like she was on the verge of losing it.

My heart squeezed. If Mr. Langston took a step closer, I would separate them, even if I got in trouble for eavesdropping. But he didn't.

"The police didn't do anything then, and they won't do anything now." Mr. Langston's eyes glimmered. "It's up to us, Diane. Whether you want to believe it or not."

Mr. Langton turned around and strode away, his eyebrows drawn together and jaw stressed. Mrs. Ryan's furrowed eyebrows relaxed, and her face stilled. She took an extra moment before returning to the others, a formal smile pasted back on her face.

To the other partygoers, they weren't important. Just two different people with different destinations and backstories, here for a good cause and leaving with pure intentions.

But at that moment, their conversation meant everything to me. I didn't know where to find Darian, but I needed to. Because Natasha's parents knew something about him, something that might lead me to figure out who Natasha truly was.

I guess kids aren't the only ones with dirty secrets.

A/N

Thank you so much for reading as always ♡

How are we enjoying the story so far?