Deity
“I’ll talk to Marcus,” Aiden said, voice gruff.
“You already said that.”
“I did?” His head angled slightly. “We should head back.”
I swallowed. Aiden wasn’t moving, and every muscle in my body
demanded that I cross that tiny space between us. But I pushed back the chair,
making a horrible scratching noise. I stood. There didn’t seem to be enough air
in the little room with faded, pea green walls. I started toward the door, but
stopped when I realized I’d left my bag on the table. I turned around.
Aiden stood in front of me. I hadn’t heard him rise or move toward
me. He had my bag in hand, book already tucked inside. And he was standing so
close that the tips of his shoes brushed mine. My heart was racing and it felt
like a dozen butterflies had exploded in my stomach. I was half afraid to
breathe, to feel what I knew I wasn’t allowed.
He placed the strap of my bag over my shoulder and then he tucked
my hair back behind my ear. I thought that maybe he was going to hug me—or
shake me, because that was always a possibility. But then his hand slid over my
cheek and his thumb smoothed over my lower lip, careful with the faint scar
over the center, even though the pain had long since ceased.
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