THE VISIONARY

Skyler wrinkled his nose, “Stop trying to please people. You only gotta please me,” he joked, rocking forward to meet the other in a kiss. “Listen, I always behave myself. Most of the time.” He smiled a little more at Griff, tugging the boy forward and towards the first bit of alcohol he could find, “I say we get absolutely wasted and find a room.”

Skyler rose an eyebrow, looking down at their hands mischievously before he laughed, “You always say something stupid. Kidding. Anyway, why are you so worried about impressing these people? I feel like they’re all out here to drink, smoke, and get laid.” He tugged Griffin to a stop, grabbing onto the other’s jacket, “You look good, now relax and have fun, yeah?”

“Don’t say that,” Griffin groaned, bumping his shoulder as they stood with their hands intertwined. He looked over at Skyler, making a face. “I don’t know, you just never know who you’re gonna end up working with later on down the road.” After all, hadn’t he read somewhere that Marc Jacobs had called Cara Delevigne a dwarf and then ended up casting her in a series of his shows later? He figured that it worked the same in the film world, and he wanted to make a good impression on the hottest new things at the party. Skyler’s grip made him sigh, leaning in to steal a gentle kiss. “Same goes for you, behave yourself.”

the familiar baritone has her spinning on her heels. even with the generous boost of her stilettos, he still towers above her, the golden glow from the chandeliers overhead framing his head like a halo. she grins at the sight. “curls, hey.” her attention falls to his open palm, the elaborate diamond hair comb glittering and bright against the tan of his skin. it’s a one of a kind piece. custom made with her delicate features in mind. it’s her’s of course, but her hand flies to her hair all the same; gently feeling the strands for the matching comb she hopes still shines from the mass of honey blonde. “shit– thanks.” she picks up the hair piece, the pad of her thumb brushing over the twinkling diamonds. she grants him another bright smile. “these are my favourite.” she slides the comb back into her updo; it’s more then a little off centre but still manages to compliment the messy style perfectly. “i owe you big.”

Griffin smiled, looking down at his shoes at the nickname she’d allotted him. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been dubbed as thus, but it still had him feeling shy— brandishing the comb for her to take. He nodded when the brunette took it, “It looks better on you than it would have on me, I figured I might as well give it back.” His smile was cheeky, but the sentiment stayed sweet. “I’m glad I could get it back.” Griff looked back at her, assessing her outfit as a whole now. “You look nice, by the way. Are you having fun?”

“Cleo.” The smile she offers as she accepts his arm is broad but edged in curiosity, the gallantry of his actions a marked contrast to what she imagined as the undercurrent to his words. Other than as an antidote to boredom, the vast majority of the night’s attendees would have no interest in making a quick buck off of a bauble — after all, it had ended up on the floor, with no one but Griffin to take notice. And yet, despite his unfamiliarity and apparent reluctance to surround himself with the haves of the world, he looked like he belonged, in a sort of rough and tumble way that left Cleo imagining he was the prodigal son of a business tycoon, making a generous appearance just to ask daddy for a couple million before running off with an heiress or two.

In short, she was fascinated. 

“Though I doubt she’d notice, I have to ask — Do you always attend charity events with the hope of finding something to sell?” She smiles as she asks something that could be perceived as entirely too biting for a first introduction. To Cleo, however, it’s a clever presentation of a very simple question: have you been to one of these before? “It’d be smart if you did, honestly. Security’s low and you’d very easily come off with something that could be in MoMA or the like.” The words come off with a sense of mischief, a cat-like gleam in her eyes at the thought of aiding a possible art thief in their crimes of glamour. Her attention diverts to a row of glittering chandeliers down an empty, winding hall. “Let’s see what’s down there.”

“No,” Griffin said brightly, nodding in response to her name and adding a ‘nice to meet you’, “But when these opportunities arise, you can’t look gift horses in the mouth.” She continued, and he found himself delighted— it seemed to him that he had snagged the last interesting person in the entire gala, who hadn’t already been squared off and accounted for, of course. “I don’t know how I’d feel about having some of that art in my house,” his thumb jerked towards the building, where the displays for the auction lay. “Kind of fussy for my tastes.”

It was ironic though, considering how his childhood home had been decorated with a wall of paintings and images that were screened and printed versions of the greats. His mother had always loved the fine arts, even if he hadn’t understood having the Girl with the Pearl Earring hanging in their washroom. Griffin grinned, reaching first to snag two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. “Refreshments,” he said to Cleo, handing one off to her before following after her. If Skyler began to wonder where he was, he was certain he’d message— in the meantime, Griffin was content to disappear into the beautiful home for a little while.

Skyler wrinkled his nose, remembering the kids after a moment. He shook his head, blowing some of his hair out of his face before he laughed, “I would make fun of you, but you’re nice and strong, babe. Why, think you can’t do it?” He paused after a second, humming, “Do you have an extra suit I could borrow?”

Griffin grinned, slinging an arm around Skyler’s shoulders, tugging him closer to him as they walked towards the water. “I know I can’t do it,” he said, before squeezing to try and lift the other male from his position in the sand. A smile tugged on his lips, “Of course— are you gonna be my date for this gala? Should we pick up some art too, for my house back home?”

Whether by means of virtue or fate — or the veritable storm of a woman known as Mrs. Doherty — Cleo spent the first hour of the event working her charm on the select few attendees notorious for being stingy with their money, and spent the second finding whatever strong drinks she could and downing them in one. Her head swirled now, half-filled with bourbon and half with gossip, her thoughts altogether too loud and too overwhelming to be contained to the opulence of the auction rooms. And so, she decided to take her chance at exploring the Doherty estate in all its glory, and ran up the stairs in pursuit of the unknown, hoping for nothing short of something magical. 

The brunette turned at the tap on her shoulder, smiling brightly when the boy presented her with something shiny. “Is this a sort of Cinderella story in reverse?” Cleo joked, taking the trinket from him and holding it up to the light. “I think it’s one of Mrs. Doherty’s party favors for everyone who’s come tonight. A Bulgari cufflink — I prefer Montblanc ones, myself, but this would look absolutely wonderful with your suit.” She smiled and placed it back in his palm before quickly scanning the nearby steps for its matching pair. Finding nothing, she leaned in to him, as though revealing a secret, to ask, “Want to search the rest of the place for its pair? See what else Mrs. Doherty’s giving out?”

Griffin’s brows rose, looking back at the cufflink that she dropped in his palm. He’d never been to a party that gave away prizes simply for showing up. His thumb smoothed over the shiny metal before glancing back up, trying to give a name to the unfamiliar face. It struck him that he was just as foreign to most of the people in attendance as they were to him— it offered the opportunity for reinvention, but he instead preferred to settle into a skin more familiar, (his own). Griff held the link up, “You’re right, it does look good.”

He smiled, slipping it into his pocket before pressing back. “If it’s any excuse to not go inside just yet, absolutely.” He lifted his chin up, in the direction of the stairs ahead of them. “Maybe they lost another up here.” Gallantly, the male held an arm out for her to take, “Think she’ll be mad if we find the stash and end up selling them all on eBay by this time tomorrow?” He paused, looking back over. “I’m Griffin, by the way.”

He kept his head down, fussing with a stray curl that had sprung back from the precarious pulled back look he’d attempted before leaving the house. Griffin had almost made it up the steps when something shiny careening towards the ground caught his eye. An earring? A cufflink? He reached down to scoop it up, tapping at the shoulder of the person one step above him. “Hey, sorry,” he said, holding out his palm to show off what he’d found, “I think you dropped this?”

         “oh, wow i’m sure you’re not a sell out.” she says with a swift shake of her head, “- i’ve never been to oakland, but i’ve heard good things about it.” it’s an automatic response that flits out - a response that would come out regardless of what city he said he was from. she racks her brain on anything she actually knows about oakland, “ – ex-home of the golden state warriors.” is the first thing that comes to mind, and she spews it out before she can stop herself, the fear of an awkward silence looming over them greater than the substance of her words.  “maybe hate is a little bit strong. i like coming back during christmas - or, um, the holidays,” she quickly corrects herself - her mother’s voice about mass appeal flitting into her mind. “the constant sunshine is nice though,” she added in as an after thought, a genuineness to her voice - while california had pulled her away from all things comfort - the sun rising and setting was the constant that had her realizing she had made it another day and maybe there was a glittering hope with the promise of tomorrow. that maybe tomorrow would be better, and maybe she would figure herself out, too. - plus, the fact that her plants didn’t die was definitely a bonus. “how are you liking malibu?” she pauses to let him answer, and there’s another set of words on the tip of her tongue that she contemplates letting free and perhaps if she hadn’t had the drink, she would have swallowed the words back but she finds herself wanting to share - maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it really is the moon, “there’s this really nice cafe that i like to go to in malibu, actually. it doesn’t ever get that busy and they always come up with a new drink every friday  - sometimes it’s tea, sometimes it’s a latte. and they um -” she realizes she’s oversharing now, her words starting to fall flat, “they - uh, have a really nice patio that has a full wall dedicated to potted succulents”

        she tucks a hair behind her ear, taking a look behind her at the party - the booming base and laughter sweeping in with the wind, “i agree, much more calming out here. but it wasn’t so bad up there.” the words aren’t the slightest bit convincing as she holds out the red cup, letting him take it. a small laugh echoing past her lips, “if you don’t end up liking it i can definitely just hold on to it until i find a garbage can, or something.” green orbs widen slightly at the question, her teeth falling onto her bottom lip,she lifts a slender shoulder as her fingers sweep over her lip, “i don’t know what my thing is.” she did though, she liked her job at the flower shop and she liked reading and writing occasionally, and she liked movies and listening to podcasts and sometimes - even pretending she was a guest or hosting a podcast when she was driving alone on a long stretch of the highway. but they refused to come out - any ounce of her personality was dimmed by fear and masked by a small laugh, as she looked up at him, “you first while i get my answer ready.” she grasps for an excuse, “what kind of things are you into griffin?”

But I’ve heard good things about it. Griffin swallowed his laugh, there wasn’t much that was good to be said about where he was from, but the brunette was being as earnest and genuine as she could possibly muster— he had to give her credit for that, and instead he smiled up at her. “Yeah, that’s right.” He tucked a hand into his pocket, nodding. “Must be kind of nice to come back up here where they’re actual snow. Kinda makes the holidays,” he didn’t stutter, smoothing his words to make her feel more comfortable, “Feel like the real deal.” Her question, despite how it should have been expected, made him pause to consider a question that wasn’t easy— he wanted to give her something genuine instead. Finally, Griffin spoke. “Our house is bigger, the street’s quieter. I guess I should like it more, but it’s just different, not better than where I’m from.” He looked back over at Rowan as she continued, animated now. “Sounds like a real dreamy kinda place. I bet they do a really good acai bowl.” He didn’t intend to make fun of her, the words just slipped and he tucked his brows in. “But, really, it sounds nice. What’s it called? Maybe I’ll swing by when I’m home.”

Griffin took a mouthful of the drink that Rowan had given him. He didn’t want to swallow it, that much he knew as soon as it hit his tongue— Grey Goose with a splash of grocery store cranberry juice wasn’t his favourite. “No, it’s great. Reminds me of college.” He took another sip to prove it, but much smaller this time. He watched her struggle to find an answer, and for a moment he felt bad for asking it— until she turned it around and gave it to himself. “I like movies,” he said without thought, pulling his hand through his curls. “I like taking pictures and capturing moments and my own stories. I think that’s my whole thing, my entire identity, wrapped up in a job I have.” Griffin smiled, “I guess if you love it, it doesn’t count as work, right?”

He lingers, her delicate fingers dwarfed in his. He’s almost reverent as he stands there bathed in moonlight, mocha eyes lost to some wayward train of thought. For a split second, a brief moment in time, she’s curious to know what he sees; this perfect stranger who knows nothing of her last name or the reputation that proceeds to press down on her shoulders like an anvil. What is it he see staring back at him beneath the summer moon? With a gentle squeeze, he drops her hand and with it her curiosity dissolves, making room for more pressing matters. “Such a gentleman.” She wanders a few steps closer to the gentle waves, just a few feet short of the wet sand. Her fingers make quick work of her shorts, letting them pool around her ankles and her shirt takes a similar journey. She kicks them aside. She presses forward until the water laps at her caves. Cooler without the pressing heat of the sun, but not enough to inspire goosebumps. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, her hair falling over one shoulder like an honeyed curtain, she flashes him a grin. “Catch me if you can.” And she’s off, kicking up water as she dives in. She pops back up, her laugh mingling with the waves.

Griffin felt almost uncomfortable, standing there as the brunette began to undress. She was more waifish as more of her skin was exposed, the bony parts of her wrist caught the light in the same way that her collarbones did, as did the notches of her spine. He was curious, but he kept his gaze respectful— trying to match her own as he tugged his own shirt over his head. It was as she raced into the water, undergarments clinging to her skin as she slowly got soaked that he realized he would have to keep some of his clothes on. There were certain boundaries that he didn’t want to cross, so he waded after her with his shorts still on his waist. “Wait, Blair,” Griff called after her, wincing as the water hit his ankles and then, deeper his knees. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

“Not the song. Who introduced you to that, anyway?” Skyler lightly pinched Griffin’s side, though he turned to rest his head on the other’s shoulder. Sometimes it was easy to forget that other people existed, considering he gave most of his time and attention to the boy he’d met back in LA. Was he naive? Maybe, but he was still having a good time and that’s all that mattered to him. “You can carry me into the water – I don’t mind.”

“I’ve got baby cousins, remember?” He smiled, twisting a little and groaning at the pinch. Griffin’s thumbs ran over the backs of Skyler’s palm, and with his hand still in his grip, he pulled back tugging them towards the waterline. It was bound to be cold, and his toes curled as they sunk into the darker, wetter sand. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make fun of me if I drop us both,” Griff said, “You’re gonna have to use those legs of yours.”

“A crisis? Maybe..” Her answering grin merely widened at his question. “A promise? Most definitely.” The summer was indeed ripe with girls; feral girls, wild girls and girls who blossomed beneath the summer sun, girls who worshiped the ocean tides. It was as if summer was an entirely different world of its own. One where days stretched long and far as the eye can see, where the warm nights run even longer. Where the sun is brighter and bolder and wraps your skin in warmth and the possibilities are endless. It was a time she embraced wholeheartedly. With an airy laugh she tossed the sandals she was holding off to the side, uncaring about where or how they landed. “Griffin,” She took a moment to try his name out of her tongue, tasting the syllables. It’s only seconds before a slow smile spreads across her mouth. “I like it. Suits you.” She took his hand in hers. “I’m Blair.”

Her palm was dwarfed by his much larger hand, Griffin was startled for a moment by how fragile the brunette seemed next to him. It was almost as though she could be picked up by a strong gust and carried out into the ocean. He knew women like that, who seemed to belong not on earth but above it, tethered to nothing. Griff didn’t realize how long he had lingered with her fingers tucked into his palm, so he gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting her go, dropping his bag into the sand. “Nice to meet you, Blair.” He smiled, tipping his chin in the direction of the water. “Ladies first, tell me if it’s cold.”

“That shark you? Or is that what you named your dick?” Skyler easily went forward with Griffin, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “The stars are nice. It’s a little romantic even for you. What kinda game you playing, Velazco?” He joked, wrinkling his nose before he leaned into the other. “If you want to get me wet, you have to carry my ass home.”

Griffin didn’t say anything, twining his fingers through Skyler’s as he hummed the tune to Baby Shark. His grin could have been seen with or without the brightness of the night’s moon and he looked back over at the water and the lights from the Hampton’s that winked in it. “I’m an artist,” he teased, “I’m always feeling romantic.” Skyler’s words fell warm against his neck and Griff breathed out a laugh. “That almost sounds better than a swim.”