Page 40 of Running
After several seconds, the worst of the pain retreats. Johnson’s arms do not. Trying to find the most comfortable position, I shift my head slightly, and my face becomes fully lined up with the crook of his neck.
As I adjust a bit again, the side of my face brushes against his soft beard. The prickles rub ever so slightly against my lips.
The physical sensations make me suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment.
But instead of pulling back—like I should—I tilt my head closer and glide my cheek against the stubble of his neck, my lipsbriefly touching the top of his shoulder. And then I’m rocked by a new urge, to press my chest against him more tightly. I start to?—
“Grace.” His voice is gruff, clearly surprised. His arms loosen their hold on me slightly.
Realizing what just happened, I’m the one to break the hug fully. He drops his own arms only then and lets me fall back into the chair.
Oh god, this is mortifying. “I’m sorry, Johnson.”
But when I see the look in his eyes, it knocks the embarrassment away. There’s so much there—regret, longing, hunger, fear.
“I’m not, Grace.”
His chocolate brown eyes loaded with that mix of emotions, his voice desperate, he rips through every safety net I’ve ever built for myself.
“Grace, I’d do pretty much anything to kiss you right now.”
Oh.Oh.
My chest feels tight, but I softly speak the truth.
“Well, I would…like that, Johnson.”
He shuts his eyes like my words cause him pain. “Knowing that, it…it makes this harder. But I can’t. We can’t.”
Anxiety starts rising in my chest. “Why not?”
My default insecurities creep in—is it me? What did I do wrong?
“It’s Landon.”
His eyes slit open, and he picks at the carpet. “I promised him I would look out for any of our teammates trying to hook up with you, mess with you.”
What?Such a Landon thing to do. “And that’s what you’re interested in? Messing around with me?”
I’m starting to get frustrated. Why are things always sohardwith Johnson? I think I’m on stable ground—and then I’m not.
His eyes get big, and he sits up straighter, moving his body closer to me. “No! No. Grace, I think you’re incredible. I would never…I wouldn’t treat you like that.”
“Was that what happened at spring break?” There, I said it.The topic we’ve avoided all this time, the topic that makes it harder to believe his words right now.
After a pained expression flashes across his face, his response is weighted with regret.
“No, Grace. Since we’re talking about it, I’m so sorry about that night. So damn sorry. I acted like an idiot, a jerk. I never should have made you feel like what you shared changed things.”
I’m quiet. Processing his apology.
“For real, it was great that you were a virgin.” Alarm fills his eyes when he realizes how that sounds. “I mean—great may not be the right word. But I didn’t mean to make it awkward that you were one.”
I’m trying to keep my emotions from spinning out while we revisit that night, but the “polite Grace” filter is apparently temporarily disabled.
“Good, because I still am.”
There’s a second of silence.
