Page 172 of If Our Hearts Collide

The silence is killing me.

“Here,” he says, passing me the tube.

I accept it, glancing down at his offering. I scrunch up my nose. “This isn’t toothpaste. This is face wash.”

“Wipe it off.”

“What?” I look between the tube and Collins.

“Your makeup.”

“What?”

“You don’t need it. At least not to the extent you thought was appropriate.”

It starts in my shoulders—the trembling—and then moves up to my lip that quivers. Tears fill up my eyes, and I suck in a breath to try to keep them at bay. He is crushing through so many boundaries that I’m starting to wonder if they ever existed in the first place.

Sensing my imminent meltdown, Collins wraps me into a hug, pulling me close to him and cradling the back of my head in his hands.

“Penny, what’s happening? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!” I shout, pulling back to no avail.

I feel stupid. Petty.Insignificant.

“Yes, you are.” He continues holding me, while I tremble in his arms.

“You think I’m”—each word is followed by a sniffle—“over-the-top?”

Collins pulls back to look at me. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Pen. It’s quite the opposite. You’re naturally pretty. I just wish you’d quit messing with what you’ve been blessed with.”

“You’re calling me a clown.”

“What? No. I didn’t say or mean that.”

“You implied it!”

He mutters a curse word under his breath, cocooning me more thoroughly in his warmth.

The press of his lips against my forehead is almost more intimate than the way we made out on the street outside the coffee shop.

It feels good to be wrapped up in Collins, but I feel stupid for having his disapproval affect me this much in the first place. What is wrong with me? I hate feeling like a ticking time bomb of emotions.

His hands move to my face, gently feeling the skin of my cheeks. His thumbs coast down, swirling against the dampness that I don’t want to acknowledge is there.

Guiding my chin to force my eyes to look at him, he sighs. “You are beautiful, Penny. I’m only saying that you don’t have to try so hard.”

Tears continue to run down my cheeks as I look away. “I do if I want anyone to actually see me.”

“I see you.”

“But you don’t like what you see—clearly.”

“Listen,” he says softly. “I suck at words. I’m”—he takes a step back and runs his hands over the back of his neck—“ah, just going to give you some privacy.”

As soon as I hear the sound of the door shutting, I fall to my knees onto the floor. How did everything go wrong tonight? The night started out so differently and ended in such a blazing disaster.

After who knows how long, I pick myself up off the floor and stumble into the bathroom. One glance into the mirror lets me see what the world sees of me. No wonder Collins handed me face wash.

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