Page 158 of The Storm

When I look up, I find his eyes on me. I don’t know if he saw me looking.

Most likely.

“Come on.” He nods toward the stairs. We trudge up the few flights. He wrestles the keys out of his pocket and opens the door, letting me in before him.

Once inside, Nick puts Nova down and takes the harness off. She shakes herself, but unlike Nick and me, she’s dry, so after another look at us, she starts sniffing the floor and every corner she can find before she disappears out of sight.

“You’re welcome,” Nick calls after her.

Laughter bubbles up inside my chest. He shakes his head and water flies all around us from his hair. I start to laugh even harder. He tries to resist, but he can’t, and then we’re both laughing. It’s the kind of helpless laughter that I can’t stop, tinged with a deep sadness because a part of me says this is how it could have been. Just us two and laughter. But then we ruined it.

Eventually the laughter peters out, and then we’re standing in the hallway, way too close to each other. I can smell the rain on his skin. I look at him, and I’m hungry for all the things I can’t have anymore. Starving.

I rub my forearms, goosebumps springing up on my skin. I don’t know if it’s from the cold or from how close he is.

“Take the first shower,” Nick says. “The bathroom’s here. I’ll find you something to wear.”

Naked in Nick’s apartment? With only a closed door separating us? I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure me being here in the first place is the worst idea in the history of ideas.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine. I should get going anyway.”

“Stop arguing, Blue,” he says with a sigh.

I don’t require any more persuasion. I just give in and silently pat myself on the back because obviously I did my best to do the right thing, didn’t I?

You’re so freaking dumb.

Once again, he grabs my hand. Once again he’s pulling me after him down the narrow hallway. He pushes a door on his left open and flicks the light on.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” he says, and then he’s gone, and I’m alone.

I look around the small bathroom, toying with the hem of my shirt. There’s a subway-tiled walk-in shower, a dark blue vanity, and a mirror that stretches from one wall to the other. A few wooden shelves hold towels and an array of bottles and containers.

I’ve never seen a space that’s just Nick’s, and I’m dying to explore but also aware that I’m most likely not welcome to do that.

“Here,” he says softly from somewhere behind me. I whirl around and take the clothes he’s holding out for me, clutching them against my chest.

His lips twitch. “You’ll make them wet.”

My mind is all over the place by this point, so now I’m holding the clothes out in front of me.

Nick chuckles, the sound low and impossibly intimate in this small space.

“The shower’s a bit tricky.” He moves past me, his body brushing against mine. He fiddles with the tap and turns thewater on. He holds his hand under the stream, until he deems it warm enough, it seems, then pulls his hand away and wipes it against his thigh.

“All good,” he says. Only now we’re standing right against each other. Toes against toes and chests against chests, and I can’t seem to breathe at all anymore.

He lifts his hand, and his thumb brushes over my temple.

“You’re shaking,” he says in a low voice.

It’s oxygen deprivation and bad decisions that demand to be made.

He swallows, throat moving. I imagine myself leaning forward and licking his neck. Now I really am shaking. Trembling with need and the urge to throw myself at him.

We’re so impossibly close.

And I remember everything.