Sloane’s brows pinched together as I snagged her books and held them with my own. “He needed to shut up. No one talks about my friends like that.”
“Maybe we should call you girls the Rebel-ettes. Or Rebel-ritas?” Shiner plopped his arm over Sloane’s shoulder with entirely too much amusement. He snagged her hand and inspected it as we all walked down the hall. I snuck a timid glance up to Isaiah, and our eyes caught, right along with my breath. How did he manage to do that? How did he manage to take my breath away so quickly?
Before I was able to look away, he snagged me around the waist and pulled me into his side, whispering into my ear, “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“How so?” I asked, trying to pull my books back that he’d somehow grabbed with just one of his hands.
“I caught your sly remark to Bain. Both of them.” His light chuckle vibrated my ear, and my face flamed, remembering what we’d done two nights ago. My body remembered much quicker than my mind. Things heated, something pulled, a slight jolt raced down my back. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how you avoided me all day yesterday. What was up with that?”
Heat landed on my head. “What? I wasn’t avoiding you.”
“Your cheeks tell me a different response.” There was a light catch to his tone, and I knew he was entertained.
Our friends were up ahead of us, Shiner’s arm still draped over Sloane’s as her black hair swayed back and forth. I sighed, thankful no one else was listening to our conversation. “Fine. Maybe I was.”
He froze for a second before stepping back in pace with me. “Why?”
The heat started at my scalp again, but this time, it continued down to the rest of my body. Why had I avoided him? It wasn’t because I’d spent most of the day trying to dig up information on the psychiatric hospital, or because I had a paper to write. It was because there was the smallest part of me that felt ashamed and guilty—and confused.
I liked Isaiah. No matter how many times I told myself not to like him and not to get attached to him, I felt myself clinging to him like he was a reason to stay at this school. My stomach dipped when he popped into my head, his smile from across the room made my own lips curve, and he had made things go haywire in my body that didn’t exactly disappear quickly after we’d parted ways Saturday.
I was confused about how much Isaiah had taken up space in my mind, and I was a little ashamed. I was supposed to be focusing on my plan to leave St. Mary’s and finding my brother. My heart shuttered with agony each and every time Tobias crossed my mind, which was practically every time I glanced in the mirror, but with Isaiah near, the pain wasn’t as unbearable. The stress wasn’t as intense.
Isaiah was making me question things like leaving, and that was something that made vomit hit the back of my throat. It was absurd to think that I could actually stay here and keep away from Richard. My eighteenth birthday was soon approaching, and the social worker who dug up things Richard wanted to hide would no longer have an obligation to me. His sick plans would come to light if I didn’t slip away unnoticed.
I was too lost in my thoughts to even realize that Isaiah and I had finished walking down the hall. We were somehow already standing outside of my first class, and he’d given Sloane back her books at some point while still holding mine tightly in his grasp.
His strong brow line deepened as he peered down at me. “Did I cross a line Saturday night?” His eyes shut briefly, then his thick black lashes fluttered back open as he shook his head. “I mean, of course I did. I shouldn’t have taken you with me. It was dangerous and—"
I placed my hand on his chest. I could feel his heart racing beneath my fingertips. It was…unusual to see him flustered, but he was. His words were too fast; his eyes were darty. The steel arches of his cheeks were a little flushed too. “Saturday was one of the best nights of my life.”
Isaiah’s mouth clamped shut as shock rolled over his features. I think it may have rolled over mine too. What was I saying?
This. This was why I avoided him. Things were…too much. I wasn’t acting like myself when he was near. I was impulsive and careless. I was caught up in him. His eyes. His breathing. Everything. And I wanted his hands back on me. I did. I really did.
“This is why I avoided you,” I mumbled, putting my hands on my books and taking them out of his grip. “When you and I are together, I can’t quite see the big picture anymore, and it scares me.” I glanced away for a second, locking onto one of the oil paintings hanging on the hallway wall. “You scare me... And it has nothing to do with us running for our lives Saturday.”
His head slanted as his features softened. “I scare you?”
I nodded as a tiny cut seemed to slice over my heart. I’d never see Isaiah again after I left. I may never feel this again, whatever it was. I was excited every time I walked into the dining hall or into the library for tutoring. I anticipated his text in the morning when I’d spent too long in the art room. Even earlier, as I stared over at Bain as he taunted Isaiah, I felt something that I’d never really felt before—I felt protective. I wanted to smash Bain’s face onto the floor for messing with him. And then I felt gratitude and love for Sloane as she stuck up for me, right there along with Isaiah. They cared about me. I had people here that actually cared about me and not in the manipulated and twisted way that Richard did. It had been a long time since I’d felt anything but loss and fear.
Isaiah huffed out a breath, running his hand through his perfectly messy hair. The hallway was beginning to empty, and he’d be late for class if he didn’t leave now. “You have no idea, do you?” he asked, peering down at me with an awed look in his eye. His hand clamped on my chin, and his thumb brushed over my lip, making my body tighten in the most delicious of ways. “You scare me, Gemma Richardson. You scare the shit out of me.”
The late bell rang out over our heads, but neither one of us stepped away. I blinked once, ping-ponging my eyes back and forth to his. “How do I scare you?”
He swallowed roughly; his thumb laid still on my lip. “Because I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to stay when you try to leave with that fake ID and money.”
My heart thudded to the ground, and my knees buckled. My eyes widened. “Don’t.” I took a step back and stared at the floor. “My only option is to run.” The words felt like acid over my tongue, and my mind began to protest them the second they were out. Is it my only option? I knew what he was feeling, though. I felt it too. A tie between us. Some type of pull that was resisting as I said the words.
I didn’t want to leave. There, I said it.
St. Mary’s was like a safe house for me. I was relaxed here. I was becoming myself. Living. Feeling. And I was happy. I was happier here than I’d ever been before. If he asked me to stay, it would make it that much harder to leave.
“Is it, though?” he asked, halting my thoughts right there. “Is it your only option?”
“Yes.” It pained me to say it; it truly did.
His hands found their way around my cheeks as he lifted my face up to his. His expression was pained, and a small little crease dug in between his eyebrows. A single wave of his hair graced his forehead. “The way you’re looking at me right now almost kills me.” His lips formed a straight line. “Your eyes are glossy.”