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Micah lifts his hand to cup my cheek, my eyes closing at the sensation of his warm skin on mine. Tilting my head up, I feel him closing the last bit of space between us.
“I’m going to kiss you, Lex. Tell me no if that’s not what you want.”
“No,” I squeak out as his breath fans across my lips.
“Why?” he asks, his hand falling away.
When I open my eyes, I see he’s taken a step back, his hazel pools filled with uncertainty.
“I don’t need a reason.”
“No,” he starts, averting his eyes to the floor between his shoes, “you don’t. I was hoping you might give me one, though.”
We stand in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before either of us move or speak. I’m not even sure if I breathe as I contemplate every thought. What to say to him. How to explain how overwhelming and all-consuming his presence is.
Micah makes it easy on me. He turns for the door, opens it, and mutters a solemn good-bye before disappearing into the hall.
I let him walk away.
It’s better this way.
Easier on everyone.
So why am I so upset? Why do I feel like I hurt him and, in the process, hurt myself?
After slipping my bare feet into the closest pair of flip flops, I run after him. I press my arm across my chest to keep my boobs from bouncing uncontrollably, but I can’t stop my hair from breaking free of my ponytail and whipping me in the face.
By the time I reach the parking lot, he’s standing next to his flashy, red sports coupe. My feet slide to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk, my eyes trained on a version of Micah I’ve never seen before. Gone is the confident, carefree, funny guy I’ve come to know. In his place is a man filled with anguish. His head is bowed in defeat as he leans back against his car, fists clenched at his sides.
I did that.
By not giving him a reason. Not explaining why it would be a bad idea for us to have a repeat performance of three nights ago. Why I’m afraid to give him even an ounce of my attention.
Because he deserves more.
More than me. More than I can risk giving him.
I’m willing my feet to move toward him when his head lifts, his eyes finding mine, as he pushes off his car. The determined expression on his face causes me to suck in a breath. Then he’s moving in my direction, and I can’t look away.
Before I can stop him, Micah tosses me over his shoulder, pinning my legs down with his arm. I should fight him, demand he put me down, but I’m stunned into silence as his heavy steps pound against the pavement, quickening the closer we get to my dorm. Someone catcalls as we enter the building. Micah’s name is whispered in hushed tones as he stomps through the lobby and down the hall toward my room.
Neither of us say anything until we’re in my suite again. The door closed. Me still slung over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.
“Which one is yours?” he asks, breaking the silence, the deep rumble in his voice causing a shiver to run up my spine.
“On the right.”
He turns toward Piper’s room, already reaching for the door handle when I correct him, “My right, sorry.”
Spinning, he walks us through my open door and drops me on my bed, slamming the door with more force than necessary.
Angry—check.
My fault—double check.
“We’re not leaving here until you tell me the truth, Lex,” he demands, moving to stand in front of where I’ve shifted to sit on the edge of my mattress. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” I let out on an elongated breath.
