Page 65

When I finally pull back, my head feels clearer.

We sit there, the distant rush of traffic filling the quiet.

"I’m sorry," I whisper.

"Don’t be. You’re allowed to hit a breaking point. I’d be more worried if you didn’t."

"Why did you follow me?"

"Because letting you walk these streets alone would make me a damn idiot, and I'm not that guy."

I smile, just barely. "Again, you’re not what I expected."

"Good. I plan on keeping you on your toes."

"Mission accomplished," I mutter.

"Careful," he says, grinning, "you keep poking the bear like that, and he may bite."

"That a promise or a threat?"

He leans in a little, voice low. "You tell me."

I roll my eyes, but my heart isn’t quite ready to slow its rhythm.

"You always this charming after a fight, or is this a special edition?"

"Only for you, Little Fields. You’ve got me pulling out my best material."

"Tragic. That was your best?"

He gets up and steps in front of me. "Nah. My best is reserved for when you stop dodging what’s right in front of you."

I smirk, playing it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah? Well, you're not exactly subtle, and lucky for you, I don't stop until I get what I want."

And somehow, with that stupid cocky smile and the heat still simmering in his gaze, I know he means every word.

He pulls me up and we start walking again, slowly.

This time, I let our shoulders brush.

Neither of us speaks much. We don’t need to.

When we reach our building, he stops.

"You okay to go in?"

I nod. "Yeah."

We ride the elevator in silence, his arms wrapped around me like he’s holding something fragile. When the doors slide open on our floor, I step out first and say quietly, "I’ll just grab my bag from your place. I think I need some space tonight to relax and not study."

He nods, searching my face. "At least eat something first or take some of the food. You must be starving."

I nod, softening. "Okay. I’ll grab something. Thanks."

As I head to the bathroom to splash water on my face, Nate disappears into the kitchen. By the time I return, he’s already packed up a plate of eggplant parm and garlic knots, tucked neatly into a to-go container.