Page 79 of Paper Thin Love

I know he’s scared; he has to be. What would Dash do if the roles were reversed? He’d break this door down and drag the fear out of my body.

I step back and then shove my left shoulder into the door.

Shit! It didn’t even rattle! I’ve never felt so insignificant.

I don’t think as I walk to his desk, grab the chair, then swing it against the door.

Okay, swing is a generous word to describe the semi-lift into the air. But it does hit the door, only to fall out of my hands on impact.

“Fuck!” That’s heavy. I grab the chair again, struggling to raise it high, and then, bam! It hits the door right as it swings open.

“What the fuck!” Dash shouts as the chair falls into the bathroom. Steam billows out, masking his face in fog.

Dash strides out and scans the room, placing me behind him. Protecting me. He whips around.“What are you doing?” He looks at the chair and then at the door.

“I’m doing what you would have done.” I slap my hands on my hips, rather proud I got him to emerge. Then what I did settles in.

Dash didn’t emerge; King did. And he’s seething. Completely naked as droplets drip down his flexed muscles, rolling down his torso, over his abs, lower and lower.

His exhale is more growl than a breath. I glide my eyes up. Slowly.“You’re. Not. Me.” He hisses. His chest heaves and trembles like a moth banging against the windowpane. I know when I speak, my choice of words will either free the creature inside of him or settle it.

The power is in my hands.

I choose to free it. Attempting to fly alongside it by opening the window and giving chase.“You said I was a predator, too.”

His neck pulses.“Not the kind that fights. You hide.”

The heat from the bathroom coats my skin, causing a sweat on my brow to build.“That’s not a predator,” I mutter.

He shakes his head, releasing the water from his hair. The strands fall loose and wild over his forehead.“I never said you didn’t strike.” He looks down at my silly attempt to break down his door.“You have poison, not claws.”

“Has it touched you?”

His jaw clenches.“You should have left when I told you to.” He turns, slips into the bathroom, and grabs a towel.“Get in the bed.”

He shakes his head knowing what I’m thinking.“We’re sleeping.”

“I’m not tired. I don’t want to sleep.” My eyes look at him with hope.Just sleep with me already!Why won’t he cross that line when he has erased every other one?

“Too fucking bad. I am.”

“Why won’t you let me do more?”

“You’ve done enough.” He grunts. He turns the lights off, then joins me in bed, turning his back to me.

“Dash,” I begin.“I just want to help.”

“I told you I don’t need your help anymore.” He hits his pillow, trying to get comfortable.

“I know you’re scared.”

No reply.

I watch his back rise and fall as the moon climbs higher in the sky. I grab the sheets and tug them high, ensuring they cover both of us.

“I’m not scared of dying in The Cleansing.” He whispers.

My heart sings. This is his way of apologizing. It’s his pattern. After he lashes out or traps me, he offers me a look inside his dark soul. He did it after we first made our deal, when he revealed he felt as dead and trapped as I did.

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