Page 18 of Whisper

Quiet permeated the empty space around us. Gradually, the most aggressive panic loosened its chokehold, and my lungs seemed to sync with his.

I like being in sync with you.

The thought ruined the moment, and instead of lingering where I wanted, I took a step back.

“What happened out there?” he asked.

When I didn’t answer, he snatched my arm right above the elbow. “Prism. What did that cop do to you?”

I stared at him, completely caught off guard. What did he do to you? Not, What have you done? Or, What is wrong with you?

For once, someone seemed to understand what I did was not an action but a reaction to something triggering.

My chest swelled, making me feel too tight and overwhelmed. “W-what?” I questioned, convincing myself I’d heard him wrong.

His penetrating stare didn’t waver as he searched my face and kept hold of my arm. “Did that cop say something? Hurt you?”

My forehead wrinkled. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you leaped over the damn desk and clobbered him.”

I blinked, speechless. He is worried about me?

“Prism.” His voice was rough and impatient when I continued to stare.

“It’s Matthew,” I said, glancing down at his hand gripping my bicep.

“What?”

I wet my lips with a quick dart of my tongue. “My first name. It’s Matthew. Matt.”

He grunted softly, and my scalp tingled when the hand on my arm moved to cup the side of my face. “Matthew,” he murmured, shattering a piece of the wall I desperately tried to keep between us.

His fingers found the shell of my ear, lightly rubbing it between them.

“Matthew, did that cop hurt you? Tell me.”

I swallowed thickly and shook my head. “No.”

“Then why’d you do it, princess? Hm? Tell me why we’re in here right now.”

“He was getting on my nerves.”

His laughter burst the bubble enclosing us, and my eyes whipped up to stare at his perfect teeth. Obviously, I thought he was sexy, but he was handsome too.

Maybe I didn’t realize until right now with him this close. He had the whole rocker chic, slightly emo look with his dark features, edgy clothes, piercings, and wrist stacked with bracelets. His hair was coarse and unruly as though it didn’t matter if he attempted to tame it; it always went back to its default setting of flopping over his forehead and sticking out around his ears.

But that smile.

It transformed his features into classically handsome, highlighting his wide jaw, broad cheekbones, and square chin complete with a slight indent in the center. His lips were wide and full, the perfect frame for those marshmallow-white teeth. It was almost like he fought against those natural clean-cut good looks with the wild brows, hair, and piercings.

But to me, it all worked together, creating a perfect storm of a man, the exact type of tempest that could take me down.

“So you hit everyone who gets on your nerves?” he inquired, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Do you have any tattoos?” I blurted. This was why I didn’t talk. I had no control over what came out of my mouth.

His smile morphed into a smirk, and embarrassment flooded my insides. I wanted to backpaddle and take away the words, but doing so would only make me feel more awkward, so I pressed my lips into a line.

---