Page 79 of What are the Chances

My heart aches, wondering what thoughts must be going through her mind. Does she want me as badly as I want her? Is she ready for this? Is she ready to give us another chance?

She answers my question when she closes her mouth and nervously swallows.

Other than the sound of the TV, silence falls between us. Smirking, I reach my hand out and grab the second pillow, the one dividing our hips. I grip the edge of the soft white fabric, my fingers clutching the pillow.

“Don’t you do it,” she warns.

“Do what, Char?” Lifting the pillow, I dangle it in the air between us. Charlotte smiles and goddamn if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The corner of her mouth twists and curls, and it takes everything in me to not lean over, closing the gap between us, and place my lips against hers.

“You know how I like my pillow walls.”

My stomach dips and twists. She’s playing with me. I swing my arm, still holding the pillow in the air, only this time, I’m holding it above the other discarded pillow sitting on the floor.

“You’re right, Charlotte. I do know how you like your pillow walls.” I drop the second pillow, freeing it from my fingers. I don’t hear it hit the floor as I keep my eyes pinned to Charlotte. Leaning forward, I bring my mouth in front of her ear, my lips barely ghosting her skin. “But let’s be honest,” I whisper. “You and I both know the wall doesn’t stay up for long.”

I half expect Charlotte to lean back and push me away. I’m even expecting her to turn away from me, ordering me to turn my attention back to the TV, insisting we should still move slow.

But she shatters all my expectations. My heart catches in my throat when her body stiffens beside me. She doesn’t breathe, she doesn’t move. She holds her breath, the air still, heavy and thick between us.

Our cheeks are barely brushing, but I feel her lips close, her throat moving as she swallows. She doesn’t need to be touching me, I feel her everywhere.

Moving back just a fraction, I line my eyes up with hers. Her pink lips are still closed, her wide eyes staring straight through me. I move my hand to the last pillow, still resting between our hips and grip the edge.

“Mason,” she whispers.

The TV is still flashing with colors, white and blue lights cascading across Charlotte’s face. Her focus is no longer on the man running for his life. she’s looking at me—only me.

“Mason,” she repeats. My name falls on a sigh. Her eyes turn down in sadness and her shoulders sag. “We can’t.”

I start to move the pillow, the cool air immediately filling the void.

“Why not?” I ask with a smirk.

She reaches out, quickly placing her hand over mine, stopping me from completely removing the last pillow.

“No, Mason. I mean it, we can’t.”

I lower the pillow but keep my fingers tightly gripped around the edge.

“Char.” My eyes flicker back and forth, searching hers for an explanation why she’s so hesitant. Doubt settles in the pit of my stomach, chewing away on the confidence that was once so abundant. Maybe she isn’t ready for this. Maybe she’s afraid. Maybe she just wants to be friends.

The longer I stare into her eyes, the more I notice how her responses are on auto-pilot. Her eyes are glassy, turning into pools of liquid.

“We can’t.”

I don’t believe her words. They’re empty, meaningless, no conviction behind them. She’s grasping at straws, struggling to come up with an excuse why we can’t be us again.

I remove my hand from the pillow and place my palm against her cheek, my thumb resting just below her eye. Her warm skin nearly causes me to fall apart and disintegrate right here on her bed, among the rabid zombies and an obviously fearful Charlotte.

I smile despite the small hint of sadness still radiating from her body. With my hand pressed against her cheek, my fingers thread through her soft chestnut hair. She doesn’t have it weaved into a braid as she normally does. Her hair is swept to the side, lying against her shoulder, longer than the last time I saw it.

“Okay, Char. If we can’t do this…” I take a deep breath, wondering how I should go about this. “Answer this question.”

A ghost, a mere hint of a smile grows on Charlotte’s mouth. “What question would that be?”

“Well,” I chuckle. I move my hand from her face and grip the edge of the pillow again, ready to pull it away this time. “If we can’t do whatever this is between us, why did you say yes to me coming over?”

“Um…” Her voice trails off in thought, seemingly caught off guard by my question. I lift the pillow a bit more.

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