Page 30 of Take 2

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I s a happy panic attack a thing? I’m pretty fucking happy. My body physically can’t allow me to not be happy. But the cause of the happiness is really freaking me out.

Which is ridiculous. There’s nothing to freak out over.

I’m in a comfy bed, in a luxurious hotel in the French Riviera, with a sex hangover.

What kind of idiot freaks out over great sex with a guy she knows she could really …

okay, that’s the source of the panic. Because I could fall for him, but I’ve been down that road before, and it was a dead end.

‘What if’s’ bombard me. He’s genuine, I know that. This is important to him, but intentions only go so far. It’s not enough to keep either of us safe.

The road to heartbreak was paved with good intentions. I know, it’s supposed to be the road to hell. Frankly, I think several roads are paved this way. There’s also the road to failure, the one to gifted kid burnout, and the road to dystopian societies.

But I’m getting ahead of myself; I don’t need to worry about where the road leads. This is still the fun part. Forget AJR. I don’t need to skip to the good part! I’m already there. I need to freeze time.

Preston wraps an arm around me. “Good morning.” The soft rumble of his half-asleep voice tugs at my heartstrings.

“Good morning.”

His eyes pop open too fast. What did I sound like? He props himself up on his elbow. “Mira?”

“Preston?”

“Are you going to get weird?”

“No. Why would I do that?”

He groans and falls back onto the pillow. “Considering you just sounded like Ross from Friends saying ‘I’m fine ,’ I would say you’d get weird because you are neurotic.”

My voice … was only half that squeaky at worst. However, without caffeine in my veins, there’s no way I have the energy to argue that, especially since the end result of me sounding like I am lying through my teeth about being fine is accurate.

After a moment, he sighs. “It must be really bad. You’re not even fighting me on it.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

He mumbles something about a cold day in hell and sits up. “What do you want, Mira?”

My feet bounce under the sheets. “I want to live in the moment and enjoy it and take it day by day.”

“But?”

“But of course I can’t, because I’m neurotic!” I scrub my hands over my face and leave them there to cover my eyes.

“I’m not asking for anything more than one day at a time.”

“I know … but I had forgotten that things could feel like this.” I search his eyes for a sign of arrogance but find none. “You’re reminding me of a lot of feelings I didn’t remember. It’s good, but overwhelming. And scary.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you relax about it?”

I laugh and shake my head. “You’ve made a valiant effort to fuck my brains out, but alas!”

His smile doesn’t erase the concern behind his eyes.

Poor guy, even when I communicate, I’m confusing as hell.

If I can’t figure myself out, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Sweet of him to try, though. So, I sit up to face him directly.

Uncovering my naked boobs probably isn’t going to help facilitate a meaningful conversation. That’s only a little on purpose.

“That’s why I stay so busy,” I say. “Can’t give myself enough time to overthink things and psych myself out.”

“Is that why we can’t seem to keep clothes on?” His hand slides up my ribs to cup a breast.

“Possibly.”

My nipple prickles and stiffens as he rubs it. “Is that what you want now? To forget everything that isn’t right now?”

Wanting is never in question. The wanting pools low in my belly, daring me to ignore it. Is it smart to keep having sex to avoid thinking about it? Probably not. But we have catching up to do on this front, and it’s guaranteed to keep me present in the moment.

I turn and slide my leg to his other side, straddling him. “I want us to forget our own names.”