Catherine’s words come to my mind. That he will get bored with me once he has me. The thought comes again and burns out just as fast. Right now, every warning loses its shape.
I want this. There is no one here to stop it.
My body leans toward him while my mind pulls back, shouting that we have crossed every line that exists.
I hate myself for it. And still, my heart keeps moving forward.
I trust a boy without words.
For the first time in my life, someone shows me instead of promising.
His phone rings. But he doesn’t look at it. He draws me closer, his forehead dropping to my chest. My shirt slides up under his hands. His fingers slip beneath my bra and free my breast. His mouth follows, his tongue circles my nipple before he draws it into his mouth, while his fingers tighten on my skin just enough to make my breath catch.
The phone rings again.
This time, he stills.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. The name on the screen makes him pause. He turns the phone toward me.
It’s Catherine.
I swallow and swipe to answer, putting her on speaker.
“Hello,” I say.
“Carmen,” she cries. “Is Judas with you?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice catching.
There is a second of silence. I hear her sniff.
“William lost a lot of blood,” she says. “They are trying to find his blood type, but it might be too late. Can you both come to the hospital for a transfusion test? I know Judas is not his blood type.”
Judas nods at me.
“Yes,” I say. “We are coming.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” she sobs. “They… they don’t know if he will survive.”
“It will be okay,” I say, even though the words feel thin in my mouth. “We are on our way.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “Bye.”
The call ends.
Judas takes the phone from my hand. He pulls my jeans back up, zips them, then takes my hand and guides me off the bike.
“Judas,” I whisper. “He will be okay. Right?”
His brows draw together. He looks at me, then looks away. He nods once.
He turns and walks to the shelf, lifts the helmets, and comes back. He settles one over my head, his hands tighten the strap under my chin. Our eyes hold for a second through the visor.
He puts his own helmet on, steps closer, and guides me back onto the bike. He climbs in front of me.
The engine turns. The vibration runs through the frame and into my bones as he eases us out of the garage and down the driveway.
My arms slide around his chest, holding tighter as he picks up the speed.
