Page 39 of Keep Me Safe

“Kira, don’t start.”

I whimper, “Why not?” But I know the answer. We are already crossing a line here.

“Go to sleep,” he says, running his fingers through my hair.

The feeling is nearly orgasmic. I let out a little moan, instantly regretting it. He stops, looking down at me.

“Jesus, Kira, you can’t do that,”he groans.

Glancing down, I gasp, taking in the impressive bulge in his sweatpants.

He’s hard.

For me.

A hand comes down and grasps my chin, directing me to look back up at him. His gaze is heated, but there’s something else there, like he’s barely holding himself back. Our faces are so close now I can feel his breath on my lips. Fuck, I want him to kiss me. His jaw tightens.

“Last warning, princess. Go to sleep, or I’m leaving.”

I look up at him, trying to read the emotions playing on his face. His eyes narrow, and I give in, lying back down on him. If this is all I can have, then I’ll take it.

When I wake up, he’s gone, and the smell of coffee from downstairs tells me he’s probably already awake. It’s the beginning of June, and it’s finally starting to feel like summer, so I throw on one of my new pairs of shorts and a T-shirt and head downstairs.

Jared is seated at the kitchen island, and I’m surprised he’s up. He usually sleeps in. Noah is standing by the stove, his eyes fixed on me.

“I should probably get going soon,” Jared says.

“Oh? Where are you headed off to so early?” I ask.

“I completely forgot, but I have an academic advising meeting at MSU today. I should still be home in enough time to go to dinner, though.”

“Well, that’s exciting!” I tell him.

I’m happy for him. He’s always wanted to go to Michigan State ever since he was little.

The late afternoon sun casts long golden streaks across

the yard as I work on my sculpture. The warm air wraps around me, thick with the scent of grass and clay, and a soft breeze teases the strands of hair escaping from my messy bun.

I glance down at my piece, brushing my fingers over thesmooth, cool surface. What started as a shapeless lump of clay has taken on the delicate form of a cupped hand, fingers gently curled like it’s meant to hold something.But what?I tilt my head, studying it from different angles, but the answer doesn’t come.

Frustration prickles at me, but I force myself to set it aside. Sometimes, ideas need time to settle before they make sense.

Deciding I’m done for the day, I gather my tools, wiping my hands on an old rag before carrying the sculpture inside. In my room, I carefully wrap it in a plastic bag to keep the clay from drying out too quickly and place it on a shelf above my dresser. It’s safe there—waiting, like me, for whatever comes next.

A small thrill of excitement runs through me as I turn to my closet. I don’t go out much, and even though it’s just dinner, I want to dress up a little. My fingers skim over worn t-shirts and denim before landing on my favorite sundress. Cream-colored, with brown flowers and soft green leaves, it ties in the back, the hem brushing mid-thigh. Simple but pretty.

I slip it on, smoothing the fabric down before making my way to the kitchen. As I step inside, I catch the tail end of Noah’s phone call.

“It’s fine. Just be safe. We’ll do dinner another time. Love you too, bye.” He hangs up, looking up at me, his eyes trailing down my body.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“Jared isn’t going to make it. He made some friends, and they convinced him to hang out tonight.”

“Is he still coming home, though?”

“He’s not sure,” he says, frustration in his voice. “We’ll get dinner another time. It’s fine.”

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