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Dark hair flashes before my eyes and I’m instantly brought back to the present. Chris has blonde hair—he’s not here, he’s not chasing me. The guy moves to stand right in front of me and I jerk to the left to go around him, but he holds his hands up to stop me. All I can do is look at the ground. I can’t breathe and I just know he’s going to touch me . . .please don’t touch me. He puts one finger under my chin and pushes it up so he can look me straight in the eyes. His other hand is holding up the number two and he begins to slowly wave his fingers back and forth between our eyes. He’s asking me to keep eye contact with him. He removes his finger from under my chin and steps closer to me, but he still isn’t touching me.Please don’t touch me.Slowly, he bends down where his eyes are level with mine and pries my hand off of my stomach and places it on his chest. He lets go of my hand and with perfect clarity I hear him say, “Breathe with me.”
I can’t take my eyes off of his. It’s too dark out to see their color, but the wrinkles between his eyes on his forehead show concern for me. Concern! He isn’t upset with me, he isn’t freaking out over my behavior, and . . . he doesn’t want to hurt me.
My hand registers his heartbeat. It’s smooth, steady, and I focus on the gentle cadence as it thumps against my hand. Warmth from his skin pushes past his shirt and drifts over my hand and up my arm. There’s an inner strength that’s radiating off of him and he’s passing it to me. Whoever this guy is, he’s slowly taking control of the situation and me. I hate feeling out of control, and I never want another person to hold control over me again, but there is something about him in this moment that makes me feel safe and makes my heart slow. If only I had had this feeling about five minutes ago, maybe none of this humiliation would be happening.
“Breathe with me.” He repeats this a few more times and I begin to mimic his deep breathing.
The noise in my ears quiets and the pressure on my chest gradually begins to relax. Being overwhelmed by the situation, I look around when he brings back up the two fingers and waves them between us again. My eyes lock back on his and tears pool in my eyes. I don’t know if these tears are leftover from the adrenaline, the relief that this is passing, or from embarrassment. A breeze passes and feels like it’s pushing me into him. Leaning forward, I lay my forehead on the middle of his chest. He doesn’t move and makes no attempt to touch me, but the steady rhythm of his heart welcomes me.
“I’m so sorry I said that to you.” His voice is quiet and remorseful. “I was trying to be funny, and I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”
I don’t say anything back to him. I mean, what would I say? Besides, I certainly do not want to get into a conversation as to why this episode of mine happened in the first place.
I’m not sure how long we actually stand in the driveway, but eventually I step a little closer to him. His hand comes up and cradles my head, almost like one would a child. His fingers slip into my hair and my eyes close at the sensation. I can’t remember the last time that I was this close to a guy. My heart is still pounding a little harder than normal, but I’m starting to think that it’s for a different reason and not out of fear. The scent of his cologne from earlier has faded, but he smells just like what I think a guy should smell like . . . clean, a combination of fresh laundry, citrus, and a musk scent. It isn’t overpowering and the scent of him combined with the air from the fall night is intoxicating.
Letting out a deep sigh, I relax against him, and slowly, he reaches down and grabs one of my fingers with one of his.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He takes a step back from me, his eyes scanning my face, and then he pulls my finger and together we walk back up the steps and to the front door.
WHAT. THE. HELL. Just. Happened.
I made a one-off flirtatious remark, and by the way she reacted, you would think I was threatening to tie her up and physically harm her. I mean,shit, that was stressful.
I’ve never seen someone have a panic attack before. The poor girl could barely breathe, she was shaking all over, and she was frantic to get out of here. No way, sweetheart. I wasn’t letting her go anywhere.
The first few weeks after my grandfather died, Clay’s mom would find me in the closet hiding and crying, and she used to put my hand on her chest to calm me down. It worked then, and it was the only thing I could think of to reassure her that I was here with her and not going to hurt her. I’ve known her for thirty minutes, but all it took was five for me to understand she doesn’t like to be touched. So this way, her hand was on me, not the other way around. The power was in her hands, not mine.
Seriously, what the hell happened to this girl? I can’t wrap my head around it. She’s beautiful and has the voice of an angel, but when her eyes locked onto mine, they were so wide with fear, I wanted to wrap my arms around her to protect her and at the same time kill whoever made her this way.
Shit.
I need to calm down and remain that way. If I get upset, she might get upset, and I don’t ever want to see that happen to her again.
As the front door closes behind us, I take a few deep breaths before turning to face her. Giving her another once over, I check to make sure she’s all right. I’m confused and she’s embarrassed, so I’m certainly not going to start firing questions at her, but damn, if I don’t want to.
She looks down at the ground and another tear slips out. Now that she’s calm, I can’t help myself, I need physical contact with her. Moving a little closer, I wrap my hand around her face and use my thumb to wipe away the tears. Her face is blotchy from crying, big, watery blue eyes stare up at me, and her lips are swollen with emotion. God, she’s gorgeous. My gaze shifts to her mouth—what I wouldn’t give to kiss all of this away, make her forget what happened on the driveway, and replace it with a memory of us that’s worth remembering.
“Stay here while I check the house out and turn on a few more lights.” I squeeze her finger and then drop it. Walking into the kitchen, I can feel her eyes following me. She still hasn’t said anything and I wish that I was a funny guy who could make her laugh, but I’m not. I mean, look what happened at the last joke I tried on her.
Pulling open the refrigerator door, there’s a six-pack of cider beer sitting on the top shelf. I grab two, one for her and one for me. Walking back over, I hold it out and she takes it.
“I thought you might need this.” I give her a small smile and turn to take a look around the downstairs floor. The home looks really nice, from what I can see of it. Mine just has the basics, but this one looks like it’s been lived in for a while. I check the garage, the laundry room, the master bedroom, and the living room. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but if wandering around the house is making her feel better, I’ll wander all night.
“So, this level is all clear and I just got a text from Clay that he’s headed back with your friends. I’m going to go sit outside on the back porch and wait for him, if that’s all right.” Her face relaxes and the relief in me staying here with her is evident.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Her voice is hoarse and throaty. She doesn’t mean it to be, but it’s sexy and could rival her singing voice any day. I hate that she feels the need to apologize. I shake my head no, not wanting her to continue.
“Don’t.” There’s a pause in our conversation and she watches as I lift the bottle to my lips and take a swallow. Her eyes on me make me feel good.
“I appreciate you offering to stay, but you really don’t have to.” Her arms wrap back around her center and my eyes are drawn again to her chest and the Blue Horizons t-shirt. I’m captivated by her and even after this, I still want to know more about her.
“I know, but they’ll be here soon and then I can take Clay with me.” Half of my mouth curves upward in a smile and her eyes drop. Looking at my mouth, she smiles in return, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s still cautious of me, and based on whatever’s happened in her past, she has good reason.
A stretch of silence makes this moment officially more awkward than it already is.
Giving her a small smile, it’s time to say goodnight. “All right, well, I guess I’ll see you around. Come lock the door behind me.” She nods her head, and I turn and walk through the middle of the house. Just like before, I can feel her watching me as I pull the sliding glass door open and shut it quietly behind me.
Dropping down into one of the Adirondack chairs on the back deck, it’s completely dark outside except for the moon and the stars. The moon is reflecting off of the lake and it makes the water appear silver. Looking to the right, I try to get a glimpse of my house. With the curve of the lake, I thought it might be possible, but it’s pretty well hidden by the trees.
