Page 33 of Wild Fire

Which makes me feel like shit because I think I hurt his feelings.

He doesn’t answer me. Instead he lets out a low breath. I count six seconds.

“You do that a lot,” I say stupidly, unbuckling my seatbelt, but still I make no move to leave. It’s like the space between us is magnetized. Like instead of needing to repel, I need to be closer. As close as I can get to him. I scoot towards him just an inch without thinking and notice the way his body relaxes. I almost feel a spark of relief; like it’s because of me, even though it’s probably not me.

He’s probably just relieved he thinks I’m leaving because I’m an asshole and he’s regretting ever saving my ass.

I know I would if I were him.

“What?” he says, his voice low, deep. My shoulders fall as I chew my lip, avoiding his gaze because right now the way he’s looking at me makes my stomach flip, and at this proximity I can smell his cologne, mixed with sweat and all I want to do is breathe it into my lungs like air.

“You count your breaths,” I say softly.

I shouldn’t press him. I should get out of this car, say thanks for the job, the ride, and never speak to him again because I know nothing good can come from it. I’m Mister Unlucky, after all. If I stay here, I’ll say something I’ll regret and cause more problems.

AJ doesn’t say anything, and I sigh, knowing I should probably go. But as I move to open my door, his voice echoes in the truck.

“No.”

My hand hovers above the handle, frozen as if I no longer control my own limbs. I glance up at him, his gaze full of darkness, his chest rising and falling with heavy breath. And then he moves. He opens the door, and before I can blink, he’s opening mine. He looks up at me from where he stands on the sidewalk, his brown eyes glistening under the light from the truck. Chill air kisses my skin and he lets out a low breath. Six seconds.

He offers me his hand, and something about it feels heavier than it should.

I want to take it, so why can’t I? Why can’t I move?

“Come on, Bright Eyes,” he says gently, waving his hand at me. “Let’s get you home.”

I carefully slide my hand in his and let him help me out of the truck. When I settle on the ground, he shuts the door, but I can’t seem to make my legs move. All I can do is stare at him.

Underneath the dim streetlights, he looks almost like a ghost, what with his black shirt and sweatpants and dark hair fading into the shadows like he himself is one.

Maybe he is.

I expect him to tell me goodbye. Have a nice life. Don’t get in any more fires. But all he says is, “What are you waiting for?”

His voice is barely a whisper, and his eyes keep searching mine for something, but I’m not sure what. All I know is my heart is racing and I don’t want him to stop looking at me.

I don’t want him to leave me. Not like this.

There’s a hundred things I could say to answer him. And every one would be a better answer than what I come up with.

“You,” I say quietly. “To tell me to go.”

He bites his lip, and I notice how tense his jaw is. How his fingers are twitching against his thigh.

“You could’ve gotten back in your car and driven off by now. So… why are you still here?”

AJ slides his hands in his back pockets, holding my gaze.

“What are you waiting for, Sir?” I ask, realizing how close we are. I don’t know when it happened, but the space between us that was there seconds ago…

It’s gone.

AJ’s face—his mouth—is inches away from mine, and I am acutely aware of how easy it would be to kiss him right now. Which I should not do.

By any means.

But something also tells me if I did, he wouldn’t stop me.