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Which isn’t fast at all. Stairs and heels don’t mix well when you have a sore ankle and need to walk gingerly.
I don’t have to turn around to know who’s following me. My foot barely hits the top step when I’m being lifted off the ground.
Colt slings me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing and stomps down the hall, throwing his bedroom door open and kicking it closed behind us.
For a few seconds, he stands in the middle of the room, with me dangling off of him. I can feel his chest rising and falling against my thighs, his warm breath fanning against my bare skin.
My heart is still beating erratically in my chest as I slide down the front of Colt’s body, hitting the carpet with a soft thud.
“Still running, I see,” he states, cupping my cheeks with his large hands, causing a shiver to run up my spine. His words are a direct contradiction to the gentle way he’s holding me.
“I wasn’t—"
“You were. I scared you. The song scared you.”
There’s no point in arguing with him. He can see right through every lie I tell him. Every lie I tell myself.
I do care about him. More than I should. More than I want to. The more I care, the more it will hurt if this doesn’t work out.
With the first kiss, I handed over a giant piece of my heart. And it feels like I’ve given him more and more of it these past few weeks. At the rec center, when I hurt my ankle, when I cried myself to sleep in his arms.
And again tonight when he put his feelings into words and sang them in front of all our friends.
It takes me a minute, but I finally find my voice and a smidgen of courage. “It was beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“When did you write it?”
“That first night. Last year. A few weeks ago. It’s been a process.”
And he chose to sing it to me tonight. Which means he still feels something for me. Even after I ran away again. After I shut him out the last few days.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you liked it. Say you heard what I was trying to tell you.”
“I heard you, Colt. I think everyone—"
“I don’t care about anyone else, Scarlet. I care about you. I care about what you think. What you want. How you feel. If you feel the same way I do…”
His voice trails off as he rests his forehead against mine, his thumb caressing the curve of my cheek.
“I do,” I hear myself whisper.
And it’s the truth. For the first time, I’m being honest about how I feel. Not just with myself, but with him. I feel the same way he does. I want to be with him. I always have.
I’m pretty sure I fell in love with Colt that night. I didn’t know anything about him except his name, but he sparked something inside me. That feeling hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s intensified over the years along with my curiosity.
To know more.
To feel more.
To want more.
And I want it all with him.
“Say it again,” he pleads, his grip on my face tightening.
