Page 101 of Collided

Yeah, shit is different when it’s with her.

Settling back on the couch, I end up sitting close to her. We both look at each other. I’m about to move away because I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable, but she shoots me a shy smile and turns back to the screen.

My heart beats crazily fast inside my chest and I can hardly breathe. At this rate, I’ll fall head-first in love with this girl. It’s a stupid, crazy thought, but it lingers somewhere in the back of my mind.

One episode turns into six. When I check the time it’s past ten.

“Isn’t ten your bedtime?” I look at her for the hundredth time. She looks cute with my black blanket on top of her as she’s curled up on the couch in comfort.

I barely watched the show. I kept glancing at her to make sure she was enjoying it—that she did. She smiled, laughed, and even talked to me about who could be the suspect in every episode.

Surprise flits across her face.

“What?” She scrambles off the couch and checks the time on her phone. The color drains from her face and her eyes widen. Her whole body freezes.

“Oh my God. I’m…dead,” she whispers before starting to throw things in her bag like a maniac.

I turn on the lights and observe how her hands are trembling. She’s fucking anxious.

“I’ll drive you home.” There’s no way I’ll let her take a cab at this hour.

She slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder and shakes her head. “No. I’ll get home by myself.”

Like hell, she would.

“It’s past ten at night. You won’t even find a cab.” I step closer, but she steps back.

“I have to go.” She rushes out of my room. I chase after her but she’s already outside.

Briskly walking down the driveway, I turn her around by gripping her elbow. Her body tenses in my hold and a gasp leaves her lips.

What the actual fuck? She’s never reacted like this with me before.

I assess her stiffened body and feel my heartstrings pull in worry.

I don’t like this one fucking bit.

She’s safe with me. I’ll protect her.

“Hope, look at me.” I loosen my grip, but don’t let go of her, knowing she’ll flee away.

The pretty girl shakes her head and looks down at her shoes. A pair of rugged blue and white Converse she wears every day.

“Hope.” I hate how much it bothers me that she isn’t looking at me. I can’t read her.

“I need to go home,” she mumbles brokenly and spares me a glance. It’s enough for me to catch a glimpse of her teary eyes and quivering lips.

For fuck’s sake. I’m a second away from killing the person who makes her feel this way.

“I’ll take you home in no time,” I promise her.

She meets my gaze and nods.

“Wait here for me,” I say.

I run to the garage and drive my car to where she is. She gets inside and hugs her shaky arms.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it’s bothering me. More than anything ever has before.

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