Complicated.The word hung in the air. It meant nothing.
I wanted to push, but Adrian's hands trembled. It was just enough that when he tried to shove them in his pockets, he missed the first time.
"I'm handling it," he said. "I just need more time to—"
"Adrian."
I crossed the room. "You don't have to explain right now." Those words surprised me. "Whatever it is. You can tell me when you're ready."
His mask cracked. Something raw and desperate surfaced before he caught it.
"I know something's wrong," I said. "You look like you're about to shatter into a million pieces, and I have a game tonight, and maybe right now isn't the time."
"That's very mature of you."
"I'm extremely mature. I once ate an entire sleeve of Oreos without getting crumbs on the couch."
He laughed—a real one—and then he reached out, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in hard enough to hurt. He pressed his face into my neck, letting out a ragged breath against my skin.
I held him back.
This would postpone the conversation. I was trading truth for the temporary certainty of his body against mine.
Probably a mistake.
I made it anyway.
"I've got you," I said into his hair. "Whatever it is."
His arms tightened until I couldn't breathe.
He kissed me like he was trying to crawl inside my mouth and hide there.
It wasn't so much romantic as frantic. His hands kept repositioning themselves on my face, neck, and shoulders, trying to decide the best anchor to keep from drowning. I tasted stale coffee on his tongue.
"Hey." I pulled back half an inch. "You're vibrating."
"I'm not—"
"Whole hummingbird thing happening." I pressed my palm flat against his chest. His heart slammed into my hand like it was trying to escape. "Breathe."
"I am breathing."
"You're hoarding air. That's not the same thing."
He laughed again—cracked and desperate—and his forehead dropped to my shoulder. His weight surprised me.
"I don't know what I need," he said into my collarbone.
"Okay." I steered him backward, hands on his hips. "Sit."
He sat on the edge of the bed. Papers crinkled beneath him.
I stood between his knees, looking down at him, and for once in my life, I didn't feel like the disaster in the room.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said. "I'm going to take care of you. You're going to let me. And for the next twenty minutes, you're not allowed to think about whatever's eating you alive."
"I can't just—"
