Effortlessly.
A burst of laughter slips out of me, disbelieving, even as a buzz races through my limbs. I turn forward again, picking up speed, my pulse slamming hard enough now that I feel it everywhere, my wrists, my throat, the space beneath my ribs.
This is insane.
I should slow down. Stop. Turn around and tell him to knock it off.
I run faster, pumping my legs harder as I weave between two trees, misjudge the space and brush one shoulder hard against bark, barely feeling it as I correct and keep going. My foot slips on loose gravel, catching right before I go down.
Behind me, he’s closer.
I don’tneed to look.
I can sense it.
The narrowing distance. The inevitability of it. My mind sharpens, not with fear but anticipation. My chest heaves unevenly now, fast and gasping, my legs starting to burn, but I don’t stop. I cut right, then double back, trying to throw him off, trying to make it harder.
Trying to make it last.
A low branch forces me down, and I duck under it, pushing through.
I surge up, and a hand clamps around my wrist.
The force spins me around before I can stop. He’s right there, both of us still moving, momentum carrying us forward. His feet catch mine, and we crash to the ground, tangled together with me on my back and Carrson over me.
He lands with one hand braced near my head, the other catching his weight so he hovers instead of crushing me. My hands are still half-curled against his chest, like I tried to stop him without realizing it. We’re close enough that I feel him, the length of his body brushing mine. The solid line of muscle beneath my palms. The heat of skin bleeding through fabric.
The world focuses down to this.
Carrson above me. The warmth of his body. The uneven cadence of his breathing as he steadies himself, as if even this, even me, he needs to control.
His head dips.
His gaze drags over my face, my mouth, lower for a microsecond, then back again.
The space between us shrinks.
My pulse stutters, then kicks harder, faster, like I’ve already decided what’s about to happen.
My lips part.
This is it. I know it.
He’s going to kiss me.
The moment stretches, everything slips into slow motion.
Right before his lips touch mine, he jerks back. The loss of him is so abrupt it leaves me reeling, like I’ve lost my footing somewhere deeper than the ground beneath me.
Carrson rolls off me in one smooth motion and sits with his back angled to me, putting distance between us like the last few seconds didn’t happen.
I stay where I am, staring at him, my pulse racing, my body refusing to accept that I’m not running anymore. That he’s not touching me.
I don’t know which I’m more shaken by.
That he almost kissed me or that I wanted him to.
He drags a hand over his face, shoulders set, shutting me out. One hand presses against his side, guarding it, and I remember. The fights yesterday. The chase just now. The way we fell.
