She sees me quickly, jumping a little, but not making a sound.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say, my hands flat on the wall behind me. I’m a little stunned from…that. My heart is pounding in my stomach. “I didn’t want to interrupt your story. I think she liked it.”

“I think she did too,” Paige says, folding her arms over her body. She’s dressed in a long cotton shirt with a large heart on the front, her arms guarding it tightly with all her might. I’m struck by the irony. “How was your night with the guys?” she asks.

“I had a good time. Thanks for making me go,” I say, my voice low, not wanting to stir Leah. Not wanting to disturb our space—to ruin our alone. “You’re right. Ty’s a pretty good guy.”

“He is,” she sighs, her eyes lingering on mine. Even in the darkness, I can see the mix of blue and specks of green. She’s prettier this way, her hair long and messy, hanging over her shoulders, draping to her breasts. Her face is a blank canvas, the makeup gone, nothing to take away from her eyes and her mouth. My eyes can’t seem to leave her lips. They’re nervous. She’s nervous. She’s…beautiful.

And I’m all in.

“I like you, Paige,” I say, watching intently as her eyes show her tell—flashing wider for a brief second, before she flits them away, looking down at her feet, at her arms that are hugging her body, her heart, tighter. “I like you. I don’t wanna like you…but I do.”

Her eyes find mine quickly. The recognition is there. She remembers. I heard. We both feel. And now things are messy…messier.

“I can’t,” she says.

“I know,” I say, my voice more broken than I expected. The rawness makes her smile fade when she hears me.

“I want to,” she says, her eyes locked on mine now. She’s no longer breathing, and her lips are quivering.

“I know,” I say, taking my breaths for her.

Neither of us is moving. Why can’t I move? Why isn’t she moving?

The longer I stand here and stare at her, the more impossible it feels to leave—to ever leave. This strong goddess who doesn’t need anyone to save her, but damn does she need someone to believe in her.

Her breath catches, just when she realizes she hasn’t tasted air for nearly a minute, and her lips part in a way that makes them that much more beautiful. I take deliberate steps across the hallway, but I move slowly enough she won’t flinch. She can’t run—I can’t let her run. If she runs, I will chase her. I will have to convince her. I will beg her.

It will get messy.

When my toes touch hers, I finally let my eyes move from her mouth to her eyes. She’s wearing her warrior face; her lids lowered slightly to dare me—to show me how strong she is, to prove she’s not the one giving me permission. But she isn’t running. She isn’t yelling. She isn’t protesting. She’s scared.

Fuck, I’m scared. I get scared. And my life is scary. I don’t come into anything alone. I’m a package.

But she isn’t running.

I’m slow with my hand, and when she sees my fingers near her cheek, her breath hitches again.

“I like you, Paige,” I repeat, my voice a whisper, my lips close to her ear. I barely remember how to do this, how to do any of this, but every movement, every word with her right now feels so natural. “I don’t want to. You don’t want me to. But I do. And so do you. And we can keep fighting, and you can walk away from things, and you can yell at me when nothing makes sense, and you don’t have anyone else to blame. I’m okay with that. I’ll be that guy. Even though part of me doesn’t want to. That part is fucking terrified. But the rest of me…”

I step back again, my hand fully on her cheek now, her weight resting on me, her eyes closed, lips still trembling.

“The rest of me just wants to kiss you,” I say, closing the inches quickly until my lips touch hers, surprise hers, claim hers and quell her fears all in one action. Her protest is short, and soon her hands find my shoulders and then my back and she pulls me into her. My hands are holding her face, and we both walk backward until her back is against my door.

I reach with one hand, frantic to find it—desperate to open the damn door. Panicked that if I break this contact she’ll stop, that she’ll slap me…that she’ll go back to not wanting to…anything. When I get the door open, we both fall inside, but our lips never part, our grip remains tight on one another. Reaching with one hand, I close the door behind us gently, not wanting to make any sound that could possibly get us caught.