Page 69 of Parallel

Jeff.

I gasp for air, pushing away from him so fast that I stumble backward, steadied only by his hands on my hips. “Oh my God. What are wedoing?”

His hands soften, but he doesn’t let me go. “I must be ridiculously bad at this if that wasn’tclear.”

“You’re about to move in with someone, and I’m engaged,” I reply, pressing a palm to my forehead. Yes, my actions around Nick haven’t been completely pure, and my dreams decidedly less so, but this crosses a line I can’t begin torationalize.

“I broke up with Meg the morning we came back from Baltimore,” he says, closing the distance I’ve placed between us. “Because I want to feel the way I do around you, and I’m not willing to settle for less than that. And you shouldn’t be settling for lesseither.”

The world seems to stop. The birds are silent, the air grows still. Nothing exists but Nick in front of me, and this thing in my chest—terror and desire, twisting until I can’t tell one from the other. He’s offering me everything I want in the world, and yet something inside me panics at the thought of taking it. I hate the idea of disappointing Jeff and my mother, but that’s not what this isabout.

“Say something,” he urges. My hands are pressed to his chest, and I can feel, beneath them, his heart beating away at a pace that can’t be normal, his body taut with what could be desire, or could be impatience. I think of his hands tugging at my dress, the heat of his mouth on myneck.

“I can’t think when you’re so close,” I whisper. “I need toleave.”

He stiffens. “Quinn—” he starts, but I cut him off because he is too compelling, and already a big part of me is hoping he refuses to let this go, refuses to letmego.

“I’m not a cheater,” I say quietly, focusing on his chest. “I…just need to think. And I can’t make a reasonable decision when we’re standing here likethis.”

Slowly, he releases me, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know what I’m asking of you is huge, and I’ll take you back to your car. Just please promise me you’ll considerit.”

I tell him I will, but I suspect it’s a lie. Because I don’t really need to think, and it has nothing to do with the size of what he’s asked. What keeps me here, refusing to take what I want most in the world, is a truth it seems I’ve always known, one proven to me as a child: something dangerous lurks inside me, and it would only take loving someone too much to set itfree.

And if I allowed myself to, I would definitely love Nick likethat.

I’d love him far more than Jeff. In fact, I’m scared I alreadydo.

* * *

The ride back is quiet.He drives slowly, but we arrive at the market much too soon. I’ve never been so reluctant to step out of someone’s car. If only his words didn’t make as much sense as they did. I may not have a lot of time left. Would it be so wrong to make myself happy while Ican?

I just don’tknow.

My eyes flicker to his mouth, remembering our kiss earlier. I want to lean over and bury my nose in his skin, consume that lingering hint of soap from his morning shower. I want to bite that lower lip of his and climb him like a ropes course. “Thank you for today,” I sayinstead.

I reach for the door handle, and he tugs me back toward him, his hands grasping my jaw as he presses his mouth to mine for one long moment. I breathe, memorizing all of it—the smell of his skin, the softness of his lips, the pressure of his calloused hands. “Please come back to me,Quinn.”

My ribs squeeze tight. I want to promise him something, but terror and desire…they’re equally weighted right now. Can I really abandon Jeff after he gave up everything for me? Can I move past this nameless fear and give in to that desperate, wholehearted kind of love I’ve felt for Nick in my memories of otherlives?

I don’t know. So instead of replying, I press my lips to his cheek, and then I slide from the car, refusing to look back as I walkaway.

33

QUINN

I’m outside your building,” I whisper. My voice is raspy from crying most of the way back to D.C. “Can you let meup?”

Caroline has known me long enough that she asks no questions. She merely says ‘of course’ and moments later her head is peeking out the door, looking one way and then the next for mycar.

We get up to her apartment. Even now, in my despair, it calls to mind the home of some Arabic princess in a Disney tale—a jewel box of rugs and artwork and furniture, all of it vivid andalive.

I sit on her purple velvet couch and she takes the chair across from me, hugging a fur pillow to her chest. “Based on your current level of blotchiness, I estimate you’ve been crying for at least a fullhour.”

My laugh is shaky. It threatens to turn into a sob, but I pull it back just in time. “Good guess. You should have ashow.”

“Like the kid who talks to the dead, but I guess how long people have been crying?” she asks. “I can’t see how it couldfail.”

I smile, but I don’t attempt a laugh this time. Toorisky.

---