“Because—” He stopped. Took a breath that sounded like it hurt. “Just leave, Claudette.”
I stared at him, completely confused. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “You did everything right. That’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand?—”
“Leave. Please.”
Something in his voice made me actually look at him. At the tension in his shoulders, the way he was standing, slightly turned away from me. At the towel slung dangerously low on his hips.
Oh.
Oh.
Understanding hit me like a shooting star and my face went nuclear.
“Oh my god.” I covered my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I should’ve left when you told me to?—”
“Claudette.”
“I’m leaving. I’m leaving right now.” I was already backing toward the door. “Sorry. So sorry. I’ll just?—”
I fled.
Practically ran out of the bathroom and down the hallway to my room. Closed the door and leaned against it, my pulse still sprinting like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the danger was over, my heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears.
I’d kissed Michael.
Michael had kissed me back.
And then I’d accidentally… caused a situation neither of us was prepared for. I pressed my hands to my burning face and tried to remember how to breathe like a normal person.
That evening Michael found me on the balcony watching the sun set over the city.
“You’ve been hiding out here for an hour,” he said, leaning against the railing beside me.
“I’m not hiding. I’m contemplating.”
“Contemplating what? How to set more things on fire?” He looked at me with a boyish grin that seemed so different from his normal smirk. I liked it.
I smacked his arm. “That was one time. And you survived.”
“Barely.” But he was still grinning. “I have something to ask.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.” He turned to face me properly. “I want to take you somewhere tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
“There’s a carnival.” He said it casually, but the way he avoided my eyes gave him away. I could see the nervousness in the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. “The whole cliché experience.”
I studied him, my brows furrowing. “You’re acting like this is our first date.”
Something flickered across his face. “It’s not.”
“Then what was our first date?” I didn’t realize how much I wanted to know about it, until now.
