“It meant I was scared I’d lose you either way.”
My throat tightens.
The air inside the closet feels thinner. His thumb brushes absentmindedly against my side, slow and grounding.
“I hated watching you leave,” he continues. “But I hated the idea of being the reason you stayed more.”
Emotion claws up my chest.
“You could’ve asked,” I whisper.
“I didn’t want to cage you.”
“I wasn’t asking for a cage.”
He exhales shakily. “You don’t get to rewrite that either.”
The door rattles suddenly from the outside. We both freeze.
A muffled voice. “Hello? Is someone in there?”
We don’t answer. Not yet. His hand is still on my waist. My fingers are still curled in his shirt. The moment stretches, fragile and electric.
“Levi,” I whisper, “if you keep touching me like that?—”
“Like what?”
“Like you mean it.”
“I do mean it.”
The confession vibrates through me. Footsteps shuffle outside. The doorknob jiggles again.
“Hold on!” someone calls.
Levi leans closer.
“So don’t test me with other men,” he murmurs.
“I can talk to whoever I want.”
“Not like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re available.”
My heart slams. “And what am I?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Mine.”
The word detonates inside me.
Before I can respond, the door swings open.
Blinding fluorescent light floods the closet.
Levi jerks back half an inch.
