Page 14 of Perfect Boy

“Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, swaying her shaking body in my arms.

Not wanting anyone to see her like this, I climb into the seat, keeping her in my arms and holding her head to my chest before closing the door. It’s like her body is here with me, but her mind isn’t. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she shivers against me, not even trying to wiggle from my hold.

That’s how I know how bad she’s hurting. She’s letting me fucking hold her.

Maybe she’s having a panic attack—I don’t really know. But I read somewhere that when people are having panic attacks, oftentimes, compression helps. I tighten my arms around her and continue to hold her, hoping that after a while, she’ll come out of it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

I finally got my dream girl to go to dinner with me, and now, I went and fucked up and scared her. She thinks I’m this violent person who goes around beating the shit out of people even though that isn’t true. I just couldn’t fucking stand him talking shit about her. And as much as I hate to admit it, a little of it was jealousy. Because the thought of Ryann on her knees, sucking his cock, makes me crazy. No, it makes me completely lose my mind.

The worst part is, I don’t know her well enough to make this better right now. I have no idea what I could do that would help. And I hate that.

I might not know what to do, but I’ll sit here, just like this, for as long as I need to. This is my fault. I’m going to fix it.

Ryann

When the panic searing through my body, making it hard for me to breathe, finally begins to subside, my mind snaps back to the present. And I literally feel like I might die of embarrassment. I’ve managed to keep these panic attacks hidden from basically everyone in my life. They started when I was a kid, and now, I only have them every now and then. So, of course the universe would make it so that I had one when I was with Watson. Since meeting him, I’ve been trying to play it off like I’m some tough, badass, unaffected bitch. Welp, after what just happened, that’s gone. He sees me…for me.

And the me that I am isn’t strong at all. And he knows it.

Despite my cheeks flooding with heat from feeling ashamed, I don’t want to move. Especially since the soft fleece of his hoodie is so comfortable. I feel like I could take a nap right here, which isn’t an option. But he’s warm and cozy. And, damn it, he smells so good. It’s hard to pull away, but that’s exactly what I need to do.

I stretch my sweatshirt over my hand and wipe my eyes before pushing off of him, making sure to not look into his eyes because then I really would die of humiliation. Or my cheeks would melt off of my face.

“You good?” he asks softly, and there isn’t a single ounce of judgment in his voice. Just concern.

I nod. “I’m good. I just want to go home.” I blow out a breath. “To go home and never talk about what just happened again.”

Of course, he isn’t going to let it go. To allow me to slip into the shadows and pretend the past however many minutes didn’t actually happen. No, that would be too freaking easy.

“Ryann, I’m really sorry. If I had known that—” He stops, and I chance a peek at him to find that he’s pale as a ghost. “If I had known that what I did to Denton would make you feel like this…I would have walked away. I would have walked away and gotten my ass in the truck and just taken you home.” He swallows. “It would have killed me to do it, but I would have done it. And I’m so fucking sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to do that.”

My entire body feels how close we are. Our bodies are touching, and I feel it everywhere. My heart is racing, and I don’t know if it’s from what just happened or the fact that we’re so close that I can smell his deodorant or cologne and feel the heat from his body.

Normally, I would call bullshit. I’d assume he does go around, beating the crap out of people, and fixes issues with violence. But there’s something in his voice and the way he’s looking at me right now…I believe what he’s telling me.

I don’t want to melt against him, so I fight it. Taking a few long blinks, I remind myself how things like this, right here, complicate everything. And that brings my brain back to its logical, smart self. Not the brain that wants to inhale Watson Gentry like a candle and cuddle his hoodie like a freaking Downy commercial.

“It’s fine,” I snap before reaching for the door handle. I push the door open and climb out. I need to get away from him.

Following me out of the truck, he steps toward me, gazing down. “Ryann, if he’s doing something to hurt you…if anyone is doing something to hurt you, I want you to tell me.”

I scowl up at him. “Why, Watson? What does it matter? What are you going to do, be Superman and show up and save the day? We barely know each other.” I throw my hands up. “No one is hurting me. And it’s not your concern if they were.”

The way his eyes burn into mine tells me he’s not buying anything I’m saying. And as we stand here, in this standoff, I eventually sigh.

“Watson, it’s not a big deal. He’s just my douchebag ex that I was dumb enough to date. He’s left me alone for a long time.” I stop, widening my eyes. “Until tonight. Until he saw us hanging out. Which is just another reason why I don’t want to hang out with you. I don’t need drama. I’ve lived through enough of it to last me a lifetime.”

“First off, don’t ever call yourself dumb. You’re not,” he mutters. “And what just happened in my truck…does that happen a lot?”

“No, not really,” I say matter-of-factly. “Only when I have to witness dudes trying to show how big and bad they are.” I blink, breaking his stare. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. I’ve been fine. I’ll always be fine. So, please…just take me back to my car so I can go home. I’m tired.”

He stands there, not budging for a moment. Finally, he steps aside so I can climb back into the truck, and he walks around to the driver’s side.

It might have sent me into a panic attack, but either way…Watson Gentry stuck up for me tonight. He stuck up for me and then held me like a baby after.

Maybe I had read him all wrong. But if that’s true…what the hell is that going to mean for us working together?

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