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“Do you want help? I’m pretty crafty with a jack and a tire iron. ”
I turn to tell her no and stop when I see her face. I swear, she glows. Her eyes shine like stars, and her smile radiates with a light all its own. My throat swells. I don’t want to give her up. “No. I don’t want you getting into trouble at home. ”
“See, you are bossy. ” She finally takes her hands out of her pockets and nudges my biceps with one delicate finger.
My heart stutters with her caress, and as she drops her arm, I quickly reach out and snake my fingers through hers. So close to letting her go, I shouldn’t touch her, but in my defense, she touched me first. “Not bossy. Concerned. Truth, Rachel, I want to know if you feel safe going home. ”
“It’s fine. Ethan would have texted me if there were problems. Mom and Dad probably haven’t even come home for the night. ”
Yeah. I knew all about guardians who stayed out late to party. I guess having money changes nothing in the realm of shitty parenting. “Tell me your brothers protect you. ” Because if not, I’d have to meet them in a dark alley sometime and school them on how to treat their sister.
“More like they’re overprotective. ”
I savor the feel of the smooth skin of her hand. No girl I have ever touched has had hands this soft. “That’s not a bad thing. ”
Rachel releases a frustrated sigh. “You know, I’m starting to think I misjudged you. You sound annoyingly like my brothers. ”
She’s right on one thing: she has misjudged me, but not in the way she thinks. “Good. I’m all for overprotection. ”
“Bossy. ”
I chuckle, and the sound makes her smile. I’m going to miss that smile. Tell her it’s over, asshole. Tell her that you come from two different worlds and that it would never work. Tell her that kiss meant more to you than she could ever imagine. Tell her that you’ll dream about her and think about her, but that’s where it ends.
The color drains from her face and her hand goes limp in mine. Did she figure out I’m bad news on her own? She heads for her car. “Do you have my keys?”
I fish them out of my pocket and toss them to her. With the click of a button, the car unlocks and she opens the passenger door. She keeps her back to me for a second then turns with a piece of paper in her hand. “Here’s my number. I almost forgot to give it to you. ”
I swallow as I stare at the number. Tell her. Just fucking tell her. “Rachel. . . ”
“You’ll call, right?” And the small amount of hurt in her voice stabs my heart.
I envelop Rachel in my arms and cup her head to my chest. She smells good. Like the ocean. Like her jacket. I try to memorize the feel of her body against mine: all soft and warm and curves. The paper in her hand crinkles as she links one arm, then another around my waist. Leaning into me, she lets out a contented sigh and I close my eyes with the sound.
Ten seconds. I’ll keep her for ten more seconds.
I want to keep her.
Two.
I shouldn’t.
Four.
Maybe she can see past what I am. We don’t have to be more. We can be friends.
Seven.
I can fix this.
Nine.
I can make anything work.
Ten.
“I’ll call. ”
With bright eyes, she shoves the number into my hand. “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. ”
