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“What’s wrong?” she said. “You run out of one-liners?”
He kept silent for a long moment, then glanced over. “I didn’t mean to get in the middle of your date.”
She didn’t look at him, but she mimicked his tone. “It wasn’t a date.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Look, if you’re just going to be a jerk—”
“I’m not.” He paused. Maybe he was. “Forget it.”
She seemed to edge away from him somehow. He heard her sigh, a soft breath of air. Her shoulders looked tight, hunched against the cold.
Or hunched against him?
“Thanks,” he said. His voice sounded rough. “For not telling him what I said.”
She looked up. “Did you think I would?”
He had no idea. He’d never told anyone before. That moment when they’d knelt in the surf and the water flowed between their fingers—it felt intimate, powerful. The water liked her. He wanted to drag her back to the beach and do it again.
That frightened him, a bit. It felt as if he’d turned something loose that he’d never be able to catch. If he made this a big deal, would she?
He just shrugged and brushed wet hair out of his eyes.
“Thanks,” she said. “For pulling me out of the water. For what you did.”
A smile pulled at his lips. “I owed you.”
“I probably should have just taken the cash.”
He laughed softly, but then silence fell between them again. He glanced over.
That was a mistake. Her shirt was slicked to her skin, catching the light from oncoming cars to accent the soft curves of her body.
He jerked his eyes back to the road. “If you don’t mind ... it’s probably better if Michael doesn’t hear about the gun.” Michael would shit a brick if he knew about that—especially if he found out Becca was there.
“Sure,” she said.
He hesitated. “It’s probably better if Michael doesn’t hear about any of it, really.”
Now he could feel the weight of her eyes, and he did his best to keep his own on the stretch of dark pavement. She wanted answers. He didn’t blame her. If a dick like Tyler had been shooting at him on her account, he probably wouldn’t be sitting there as patiently as she was.
Then again, she was still shivering. Was it all cold? Should he reach out and touch her?
He remembered the way she’d snapped at him in the cafeteria, like the words had etched themselves into his brain. But he kept thinking of the feel of her hand in his, how she’d hung close to him in the water.
Or how soft her lips had been.
When you were performing mouth-to-mouth? You are one sick bastard.
“Look.” Chris cleared his throat and rested his arm on the door. His fingers found a loose piece of upholstery there, and he picked at it. “This thing with Tyler—it goes back a ways.”
“How far back?”
He shouldn’t be telling her this. Despite Tyler, despite the fights—there was safety in this community. Risking discovery— and telling an outsider was definitely risking discovery—was a mistake.
Then he remembered Tyler’s warnings, about the Guides. Maybe they weren’t safe here at all.
