Page 113 of Stone Cold Touch

Sam looked really good. It was like seeing your son growing up or something.

And Stacey couldn’t keep her eyes off him...or her hand. Right now, her fingers were curled around his forearm and his hand...whoa. His hand was resting on her thigh, like herinnerthigh.

I whipped back around, feeling like a peeper. My gaze shifted to Zayne. His right hand rested on his leg while his left held the steering wheel. I wanted to reach over and place my hand over his, but years of being nothing more than a friend to him prevented me from taking that action.

The worst thing ever entered my brain at that chosen moment. Would it be this hard with Roth to forget who I used to be versus who I was now? I quickly looked away, blowing out a low breath as I watched a cab stop to pick up a couple.

I will not think of him. I will not think of him.He had no place in this, in any of this.

Traffic was a beast and it took a lifetime to get to the theater in the historic district. The place wasn’t a Cineplex. More like an old-school theater with only a couple of movies showing, but it was quaint and cute and once we all decided on a film, we were ready to do this.

The lobby was mostly empty by the time we got our tickets, but the smell of buttery popcorn made the fact that we’d missed the previews okeydoke.

As we walked to the concession stand, Sam moved to Stacey’s other side, wrapping his arm around her waist, and I was guessing I hadn’t been around for the day that their relationship went from finally acknowledging each other into touchy-feely land.

Considering how far Zayne and I had gone without really going anywhere, I wondered just exactly what Sam and Stacey had shared, and made a mental note to demand the lowdown on their current state of affairs.

But right now, I was more concerned with my own current affairs.

Still surprised that I was here with Zayne after what had happened, I looked up at him. He was watching me as I nibbled on my thumbnail.

“You doing okay?” he asked, tugging my hand away from my mouth.

I nodded.

He dipped his head so that his mouth was near my ear. “So relax.”

It wasn’t until then that I realized how locked up my muscles were. I forced a couple of deep breaths, willing the tension out of my body.

“That’s better.” He placed a hand on my lower back and whispered, “I want to be here, Layla-bug. No matter what has happened in the past, I want to be here.”

Those words made the breath catch in my throat and spun my heart around like a ballerina. “I want to be here, too,” I whispered back.

His lips brushed my temple. “That’s what I want to hear.”

When he pulled back, my smile was so wide there was a good chance it would crack my face open in a good way. If there was such a thing.

The jiggle from the door behind us announced we weren’t the only ones running late. The sound drawing my attention, I looked over my shoulder and almost fell right over. Face-first into a trash can.

Walking through the door was the man I’d slapped in the face with the Bible—the member of Church of God’s Children that had gotten away. He was dressed the same way he’d been that horrible day—white shirt and pressed pants, hair cropped close to the skull. He carried a bottle of water with him. It couldn’t be a coincidence, but had he known we’d be here? Had he been following Zayne and me? Or my friends?

My mouth dropped open as I whipped around, grabbing the back of Zayne’s shirt. He turned, gaze questioning. “Look who just walked in,” I whispered.

He glanced back and he swore under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What are you guys chatting about?” Stacey asked, twisting toward us. As she did so, she leaned into Sam’s arm in a way that would’ve been supercute if I wasn’t seconds away from flipping out.

“Nothing.” Zayne sent her a sure smile as he slipped his arm over my shoulders, effectively moving me so I was standing in front of him. “You guys getting popcorn or something?”

“I have a need for Skittles,” Sam replied, eyeing the counter as he rested his hands on the glass countertop. The cashier, a young girl with more freckles than there were stars in the sky, was leaning toward him.

“Skittles?” Stacey wrinkled her nose. “You hate Skittles.”

Zayne curled his hand around my upper arm. “We’re going to go ahead and—”

The man stepped right in front of us and he looked directly at Stacey and Sam. “You shouldn’t be here with them.”

Stacey looked over at him, blinking slowly as Sam pushed away from the counter. A curious expression marked his face. “Excuse me?” she said.

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