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When I reach the bedroom, I slip inside and close the door behind me, turning the lock into place before sliding down the door until my butt hits the hardwood floor. I stay like that for a long while, until the sun starts to set, and the moon finds its way into the night sky.

???

The days that follow are very much like the first day Clark’s father came home. I find myself walking on eggshells, my panic attacks becoming more and more frequent. Clark takes notice and does his best to help me through them, but I find myself pushing him away every time, afraid of the feelings he stirs inside of me.

I shouldn’t crave a man’s touch. I shouldn’t want to feel the warmth of their embrace around me, but I want Clark’s. I need it like I need my next breath like I need air to breathe. It’s wrong, forbidden, but it’s real, and I want it. I want it badly. Something inside of me awakens when he’s near, and it feels like…like I maybe I could find my way back to the old me, the me before everything happened.

“You have to stop avoiding me. We’re going to be going to classes together and I have to show you around campus and introduce you to my friends. I can’t do those things if you’re hiding from me,” Clark says, entering my room.

I’ve been sitting on the bed reading a book nearly all afternoon. It’s the only room in the house that I feel safe in, now that Clark’s father is here. I pull my gaze from the paperback and let them rise slowly, drinking in the man before me.

Tall, toned, tan, with a body that resembles that of the Greek gods. His cheeks are high, his jaw sharp, firm, and briefly I wonder what his tight, toned muscles would feel like under my hands. What it would be like to explore him, to let him explore me. Heat creeps up my throat and onto my face, probably given my indecent thoughts away.

I have no right to think of Clark in such a way, even more so when I’m positive he doesn’t see me in the same way.

“Are you listening to me?” Clark’s voice takes on a deep tone that snapped me out of my thoughts and I swallow, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m…” I pause when my eyes meet his hazel ones. They remind me of autumn, the sun hanging in the afternoon sky, warmth, and apples, and happiness. Joy. Clark is joy.

“You’re avoiding me,” he huffs out and moves over to the bed. His movements are slow but precise, as if he’s trying not to startle me.

“Am not,” I say back, closing the romance novel I’m reading. The movement draws Clark’s attention away from me and down to the book in my hands.

“What are you reading?”

“Nothing.” I tuck the book close to my chest.

A smooth grin that I’m sure if I was any other girl would have my panties hitting the floor pulls at his lips. “Liar. Why do you lie to me, Em? I thought we were friends?” The light playful banter he’s giving off makes my lips tugged up into a smile, the movement so foreign that it feels strange to have my lips doing such a thing.

Clark leans in, and the air in my lungs stills. “Beautiful. So damn beautiful. I want to see you smile all the time, Emerson. All the damn time.”

What do I say to that? Is there even a response? My mouth pops open, but the response never comes. Clark’s gaze drops from my eyes and down to my lips and I let myself wonder, but only for a moment what it would be like to kiss him, to let him kiss me. Would I be afraid? Would I freak out? Or would I fall? Fall into his lips, his arms?

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says softly, his minty breath tickling my nostrils.

“What kind of surprise?” I ask curiously, letting myself give in to the playful banter.

Clark snickers. “Well, it involves, getting out of bed, leaving this room, and getting into a car with me.”

My gaze widens, and as if he can hear my thoughts, he places his large hand against mine, “I just want to take you somewhere. You’re safe, and always will be with me.”

I nod, letting him know that I know that before exhaling. When I suck in another breath, I feel a little less panicked.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Do you trust me?” he counters.

I swallow, my throat tightening. I should say no, it would be the smart thing to do, but I don’t because as badly as I know I shouldn’t, I do trust Clark. I trust him more than I trust even my own family.

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