Most of the anger I’d seen every time I looked into Griffin’s eyes had faded. He half-smiled at me, making the scars on the side of his face scrunch up slightly. Catching me looking at his scars, he turned his face away so that all I could see was his good side. “Please don’t do that,” I pleaded softly. Shifting to face me, he asked, “Do what?” “Turning away from me so that I can’t see your scars.” He remained silent, as if contemplating my words. I reached up, slowly and gently caressing his cheek. Closing his eyes, he leaned further into my touch despite the pained expression on his face. Leaning forward, I scattered butterfly kisses onto the most puckered scar and I felt his body tense up and his eyes clench shut. I wish I could ease away some of his self-consciousness. Bringing my lips up to his ear, I whispered, “They don’t bother me, Griffin. And if they bother other people, then that’s their problem, not yours.” I leaned back to try and look him in the eye, to let him see that I had meant what I said.
