My eyes dart anywhere but at him—floor, wall, ceiling, anywhere that isn't his face. Heat prickles my skin, making me squirm against the door.
"Because... because I like it."
His brow lifts, that smirk deepening. "You like it."
"Yes." My fingers tighten around the locket until the chain digs into my skin.
"Not because it reminds you of me?" His voice is softer now, but it slides under my skin like a slow burn.
"No," I bite out.
Zach leans closer, close enough that the air between us feels thick and heavy. "So you're telling me," he murmurs, "that you've been wearing this every day for three years just because it's... cute?"
"It goes with everything," I say quickly, a little too quickly.
He hums, like he doesn't believe me for a second. "Right. So, it has nothing to do with the fact that I gave it to you."
My breath hitches, and I force my chin up, trying to look unaffected even as my eyes betray me, flicking down to his mouth.
"It doesn't," I whisper.
Zach's grin turns slow, wicked. "Liar."
The word slides over my skin like a caress, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
And then Zach's grip on the door eases just enough that I feel the weight of his body shift back.
I seize the moment and whirl toward the door, fumbling for the knob—only to freeze when his palm slams against the wood beside my head with a soft, heavy thud.
The sound vibrates straight through me.
"Can you—" my voice cracks, and I clear my throat, forcing steel into it. "Can you stop blocking the door and just let me leave?"
"And can you stop running away?"
The warmth of his breath skims my skin, and I swear every hair on my body stands on end. My spine goes rigid, a shiver rolling all the way down to my toes.
For a beat, neither of us moves. Then Zach sighs—long and weary.
"I've waited so damn long for this day," he says, his voice ragged, his palm still pressed firm against the door. "For three years. Just to see you. To talk to you. Like we used to."
His forehead comes to rest against my shoulder, his breath warm and shaky as it spills out against my skin.
"So please... baby," his voice cracks on the word, soft and wrecked, "stop running from me. You're breaking my heart."
"Zach..." The name falls from my lips, shaky, my fingers still locked around the doorknob like it's the only thing keeping me standing. "I can't—"
"Just a few minutes," he cuts in, his tone breaking softer, almost begging. "That's all I'm asking. I know you don't want to talk to me right now—maybe not ever. And you have every reason not to."
His hand slides down, fingers brushing my wrist before settling warm against my elbow, guiding me gently until I let go of the doorknob.
My body turns under his touch, slow and reluctant, until we're face-to-face again.
His jaw tightens, his throat working like the words cost him. "But I can't just stand here and watch you walk away again. I'm not built to stay away from you, Caroline." His eyes search mine, raw and unguarded. "I never was."
He exhales, the sound low and rough, like it's being dragged out of him. "You don't even have to say anything. Just... stay. Hear me out. Let me tell you what really happened—why I said what I said."
His hand loosens on my arm but doesn't fall away, his thumb brushing once against my sleeve, like he's afraid I'll bolt if he lets go completely.
