"Why not?"
"Because you're not trying to hurt me, you're trying to understand me."
"It’s more than that. I can’t stop this obsession with you. I crave you, Roxy. I need to know everything about you."
My breath catches at his response as butterflies fill my tummy.
"You feel it too."
“I do,” I say, leaning forward across the table.
We stare at one another, communicating with only our eyes, leaving ourselves bare to show the want and desire between us. The need to be close getting only more intense with each passing day.
"What do you want from me?" I ask.
"I don't know,” he says, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I just know that when I saw you on that roadside, something inside me joined itself to you, and I can't let that go. I can't let you go."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
This is fucked up as I understand what he’s trying to say, but it makes no sense to feel this way. We’re strangers. This is a shitload of red flags on both sides, but my need to stay is far more extreme than a need to run.
"I'm going to keep driving, West. Toward California, probably," I say.
"Sounds good."
"And you're going to keep following me."
"Always."
"And eventually, we will stop running from whatever this is."
His eyes lock on mine and his nostrils flare. "Yeah, and it will happen soon, Roxy. I won’t be able to wait much longer."
Dom’s calm yet demanding manner is so fucking swoonworthy, I’m almost tempted to throw all caution to the wind and grab him over this bench right now. He is a walking fucking dream.
"But what happens after?" I ask, deciding to remain composed.
"I don't know,” he says, reaching across the table, his hand hovering over mine but not touching. Not yet. "But I think we both want to find out."
I look down at his hand, at the tattoos covering his forearms, the scars on his knuckles. Evidence of violence, of a life lived in the shadows where the monsters live. Just like mine.
Slowly, I turn my hand over, palm up as an offering. His fingers brush mine with the lightest touch, and it sends electricity racing up my arm. If this is what a whisper of a touch feels like, I can’t fucking imagine how it will feel to have his whole body pressed against mine.
"There's a bar about a hundred miles west in a small town, the middle of nowhere."
"I'll find it."
"I know you will."
We sit there as the last light fades, our hands barely touching with the promise of something special forging between us. Eventually, I pull away and stand up to leave.
"I should go."
"Yeah," he says as he stands too, but neither of us move.
"Dom?"
