Page 30 of Paper Thin Love

In a swift move, he wraps his arms around me, grabbing my lower back, pinning my hips against his. I gasp, then freeze.

Beat heart, start beating before you die!

Thump! Thump!

A cold sweat beads on my brow.

What’s he going to do? It always seems to be the question first on my tongue. Kiss me? Kill me? Laugh and tell me this is just a twisted game? Set me free?

I’m playing with fire! I need to stop.

But it feels so warm.

It feels.

And I’ve been numb for so long.

Why is my weight pressing onto the tips of my toes so I can be closer to him? Damn, my ballerina reactions because my toes start to push up as if in a pointe shoe…if only to reach his lips again.

Sanity? Well, it comes rushing back. I brace both my hands on his chest and shove myself away.

He raises a brow as he maintains balance on his crutch.

“You better not change colors on me, Mila. You might be a Michelson, but your daddy can be replaced.” He warns.

“So can yours.”

Oh. My. God.

I slap my hand over my mouth.“I didn’t mean to say that. I’m starting to think you have a disease that’s affecting me. Word vomit.” I shake my head, trying to clear the embarrassment.

Inhale, swallow, paste on a fake smile, and reset.

“I’m loyal to you. We made a deal. I am a Michelson after all. I have to live and die by my deals.”

My fake smile fades like a popsicle on a hot summer’s day. The look he levels me makes me feel like the chewed-up wooden stick. Like he’s licked away every ounce of me, leaving just bare bones.

“I get it,” Dash says. His words surprise me.“Sometimesthe most interesting conversation you can have is with yourself.”

I shake my head, feeling the tension my high bun is causing.Great, just add a headache into the mix, Life!“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. You just won’t admit it yet. You and me? We’re alike. Broken, pieced back together. We just used different materials to assemble ourselves again. My choice was stronger, little fox. You’re slowly crumbling, thus your need for freedom. Just remember, Mila, being free won’t piece you back together.”

His eyes relish my shock, my acceptance of his words.

“What will?” I whisper. Of course, the devil hears.

“It’s usually the thing you fear most,” he replies. He watches his words hit me, sink into me like sinking sand I can’t escape from. I don’t fight it; that would make the shock swallow me faster.

He begins to walk confidently across the manicured lawn of our privateschool,as if he’s the tour guide and not me. I can see students glancing our way, curiosity piqued, but their eyes quickly divert, not wanting to draw too much attention.

Turning, I rush to catch up to him.“If we are going to work together—”

He swings his crutch out, almost tripping me. I stumble, having to hop like a fox, avoiding a snare, trying to maintain my balance.“Not if, Mila. We made a deal.”

“I... I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did. You tried to threaten me. Ill-advised. Consider my mood more lenient than most days. Don’t test me anymore.”

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