Page 105 of Collided

Heath shakes his head and takes a bite. “You didn’t listen to me.”

Disappointment stirs inside of me. “I…”

“Next time, save it.”

We eat in silence. From the multiple glances I cast his way I can see he’s enjoying the food, though he doesn’t say a word.

“How did you know I was here?”

We’ve wrapped up the empty boxes and are sitting against the wall next to each other.

“Sebastian drove me here. He said this is where you are when you’re not at home. I went to your house first.”

He scowls. “It’s not safe for you to be here.”

I couldn’t agree more. “I know now. I’m sorry that you had to…step in. I had it covered though.” I give him a confident look.

Heath watches me, then chuckles, for the very first time. My eyes quickly focus on him, so I don’t miss it. A film reel records the view and the sound like a memory to look at later.

Wearing only a black shirt and shorts, he looks young and carefree. And as he laughs, he’s never looked more alive before. I like this look on him better than the grumpy, angry one.

He shakes his head. “You had it covered? I could see that.” He bends his legs to his chest and sets his arms over his knees. His eyes set on me.

“I had a plan,” I tell him.

A smile lingers on his lips. “Let’s hear it.”

Hugging my arms, I say, “I was going to escape and then text you.”

“How would you have texted me?”

Right. I don’t have his number.

“I could’ve asked Sebastian to text you.” I shrug nonchalantly.

Heath retrieves his sleek phone from his pocket and hands it to me. “You want to talk to me,youtext me yourself.”

I put in my number and send myself a message. My phone pings and I quickly save his number.

“Done.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, not taking his eyes off me.

My head hurts from the claw clip, so I take it off. My hair falls in waves. I don’t have long hair, but it reaches below my breasts if I bring it to the front. I’m about to tuck a few strands behind my ear when he catches my hand.

The air in my throat hitches.

All that I’ve read about these moments in books happens to me.Racing heart. Shallow breaths. Butterflies.

Letting my hand fall into my lap,hetucks the few strands of my hair behind my ear in a loose manner—they’d come in front if I moved even a little. His hand lingers on the side of my face, but he doesn’t touch me.

“You have wavy hair,” he says in a low, deep voice that draws every bit of my attention to his mouth.

“Not from the roots. It’s straight then goes curly in the middle and at the ends,” I elaborate as if he doesn’t have eyes.

His eyes assess my hair from top to bottom as if memorizing it. “I can see that.” Then his gaze finally meets my eyes. “I like it,” he says.

We stare at each other. There’s very little distance between us. We can kiss—

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