Page 53 of Rescue

“Sure,” he finally says, smiling a little. I sigh happily, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling myself flush against him. I wonder if he can feel how hard my heart is beating—it feels like we’re close enough. God, he smells good. And his skin is so warm.

“Haylee.” His voice is a little rough, unsteady, and something about it seems to break through the haze of alcohol, piercing me in the chest, and it’s too much.I don’t want to feel this, I think. I don’t want to feel anything. I just want to concentrate on how good it is to be this close to him. I tighten my arms around his neck, closing my eyes.

“Can we just dance?” I whisper.

Somehow he manages to pull me even closer. “Sure.”

I don’t know how long we stand like that, holding each other so tight, barely moving to the music. I want him so much it’s overwhelming, and I try to focus on the little things—the way his fingers are digging into my lower back, the feel of his breath on my neck, the softness of his hair just above my fingers. Anything to keep myself from doing something really stupid—like telling him that I’m falling for him. Telling him that I can feel him filling up the hole in my chest, feel him fixing me.

“Haylee,” he says again, his voice still rough. It sends my stomach flipping in a delicious mixture of nerves and excitement. But the nerves win out—whatever he’s going to say is going to be too much. I’m not sure how I know, but I do. He’s going to say something to me that can’t be taken back. Something that will change us. And I’m scared.

“Let’s go back to your room,” I blurt out, pulling back to look at him. His eyes are dark, his gaze intense. I swallow, my throat dry. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way Lennon does. As if he really knows me, can really see me. As if helikeswhat he sees, even the parts of me that feel messed up or broken. He looks at me like I matter to him. Like his day would be worse without me in it.

“My room?” His voice is low, eager.

I nod, biting my lip, liking the idea more and more. It’s obvious there’s an attraction between us, a strong connection. Why shouldn’t we be having fun with it? And if we’re having fun with it, maybe I can distract myself from the idea that this man can fix me.

No one can fix you, I remind myself.That hole in your chest isn’t going anywhere.

But spending the night with Lennon might make me forget about it, at least for a while.

“I want you,” I tell him, meeting his gaze, suddenly desperate for him to agree. “I want to be with you.”

The size of his grin makes my breath catch. “I thought you said it wasn’t a good idea?” he asks, brushing his fingers across my cheek. Goose bumps erupt on my skin at the touch. “That we should just be friends.”

“We are friends.” I force out another giggle, needing something to break this intensity in my chest. “We could be…”

“More?” he asks, the smile slipping away as his eyes darken, making me shiver.

“Exactly,” I murmur. “Like, friends with benefits.”

The smile slips away entirely, but I no longer feel like shivering. Because the intensity has left his eyes as well. He’s no longer peering down at me like he wants me more than anything else in the world. He’s looking at me like he doesn’t know me.

“What?” I ask, a shot of panic coursing through me as he pulls back a little, his hand dropping from my face.

“What’s going on, Haylee?”

God, his voice has turned so cold. “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. “I thought we were… Aren’t we on the same page?”

“I’m thinking we aren’t. Let’s just get this clear, okay?”

I swallow, wondering why on earth I’m so afraid of what he might say. “You still aren’t interested in a relationship, right? You’re just talking about hooking up.”

“What’s wrong with a hookup?” I ask, forcing a smile onto my face. Maybe I can salvage this—

“Nothing,” he says, but his eyes are hard. “Not when that’s what both people want.”

I feel the sharp sting of rejection. “And you don’t want me, that’s what you’re saying?” I snap, pulling the rest of the way out of his arms.

“Of course I want you,” he practically growls. “But not if you can’t be real with me.”

“What are youtalkingabout?”

“It would be more than a hookup, and you know it.”

“Oh, God.” I cross my arms. “What do you want from me, Lennon? You want some declaration of my feelings? This isn’t a Victorian romance novel.”

If I thought his voice went cold before, it was nothing to the way it sounds now. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t do bullshit, Haylee, and I don’t do lies.”