I wanted to put my hand on her throat, not to hurt her. Just to feel that pulse. To hold her still while she decided whether she wanted to keep lying or finally tell me what she was so damn scared of. To feel her swallow under my thumb when she figured out I wasn’t as unaffected as I looked.
I kept my hands to myself.
“You’re going to sit back down,” I said.
Crystal’s smile sharpened. “You sure you want me on the bed?”
“No.”
That made her blink.
I let her have the truth, since she’d already seen too much. “But I want you away from the door.”
Something hot and startled moved across her face.
Then she walked back to the bed as if she’d chosen it.
She sat, crossed her legs at the ankles, and picked up the pretzels again. “You always this honest?”
“Only when lying wastes time.”
“That explains why you’re so fun.”
“I’ve had complaints.”
“I bet you have.”
I took the second chair from the table and angled it between the bed and door. The view gave me the window, the bathroom, and her.
Crystal watched me set up like she was making a study of every move.
“You really think I’m getting past you?” she asked.
“I think you’ll try if I give you enough room.”
“You sound almost impressed.”
“I’m cautious.”
“Same thing, if you say it with enough longing.”
I sat. The chair creaked under me.
She snorted.
“Do not start,” I said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to express concern for the furniture.”
“The furniture can take it.”
“I admire your optimism.”
I should’ve shut it down. I should’ve told her to eat, lie down, and save her breath for the morning. I should’ve put more distance between us, even if the square footage didn’t offer much.
