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I hold my breath, watching him and hoping he continues to walk by none the wiser.
Then he looks back to me in surprise and stops dead in his tracks.
I try not to shake, fighting off the trembling my bones want to give in to as his eyes rake over me from head to toe.
Too late, I squeeze my fingers together and slap my fist against my shorts.
“Bree?” he asks softly, his brows knitting together as he jerks his attention back to my face. “What’s wrong?”
What isn’t wrong?! I want to scream, but only end up shaking my head.
He takes one step toward me and I cry out, “Don’t!” as I stumble back.
For the love of god, don’t get near me. If you knew what was good for you, you’d run far, far away.
You’d forget me.
Ignoring me, he stalks toward me, the look on his face growing darker. Once again, I find myself having this unsettling feeling that he can see right through me. See right through to the very depths of my soul.
I take a step back for each one he takes forward until I’ve trapped myself against the wall.
Using his bigger body to block me in, Emmett reaches down as if he’s going to grab my hand but I jerk it out of his reach.
“Don’t touch me!” I snap.
A look of hurt passes over his face and I experience an immediate pang of guilt.
Oh god, the last thing I want to do is hurt him of all people.
We stare at each other in surprise before he shakes his head sharply.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says and reaches up, raking his fingers through his hair as he takes a step back. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry for bothering you…”
Dropping his arm down to his side in defeat, he turns his back on me and begins to walk away.
I want him to leave… and yet I don’t. In fact, something inside me begins to panic as he walks away.
After what I just did, he’ll probably never speak to me again.
“Everything turns to shit,” I whisper.
The words just slip out of me on their own as if my soul is sending a distress signal.
I press my lips together, horrified that my thoughts are starting to leak out, and hope he didn’t hear it.
“What was that?” he asks, whipping around to face me again so quick it’s as if he was ready for me to call him back.
When I refuse to answer, he walks toward me again, quickly closing the distance between us.
“What was that?” he repeats and his gaze bores into me, willing me to answer him.
Unable to resist him, I find myself explaining, “Everything I touch turns to shit… so please, don’t touch me.”
Shock. Pure, unadulterated shock appears on his face and stares back at me.
And I wish I could shrink into something small. I wish I could disappear into the wall.
Then the shock fades away.
