Page 401 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I close my eyes and try to regulate my breathing, but I’m still keyed up from everything that happened, my mind jumping from the run-in with the photographer to my argument withFlint to some crazy version of a future where Nate follows me around all the time, trudging behind me through the woods, watching me do all my research, even hovering outside the bathroom when I need to pee.
I close my eyes and take a slow, intentional breath, willing myself to relax. But it’s useless.
I am never going to fall asleep.
Beside me, the mattress shifts, and suddenly, Flint’s warm body is right beside me. He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me against him, curving his limbs around me, making himself the big spoon to my smaller one. His breath brushes over my ear. “Just breathe,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
I instantly relax, melting into the warmth of him, savoring his solid presence behind me. I didn’t know this is what I would need to fall asleep, but with Flint beside me, his strong arms holding me close, I have never felt so safe.
My breathing slowly steadies, and my eyelids grow heavy.
Soon, Flint’s breathing changes, and I can tell that he’s asleep.
I don’t want this to be complicated.
I have met a ridiculously perfect man, and I want to be with him.
More than anything.
But I can’t pretend like there isn't a cost. My safety. My anonymity. My solitude. I can never take those things for granted again.
My life will never bethe sameagain.
I just have to decide if it’s worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Audrey
There is only onemore stop before we’re heading back to North Carolina, and that’s the panel discussion at UCLA’s film school.
Flint and I haven’t talked much this morning. We only got a few hours of sleep before we had to be up, so it’s possible we’re both just tired. But the air seems different between us somehow. Like we’re both waiting to see how the other is going to act.
A part of me wants to just throw my arms around him, apologize for the argument, and promise everything is going to be fine.
But I still feel sick whenever I think about the photographer in my face, violating my privacy, touching my skin, pulling me toward him.
I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive in Flint’s world.
Trouble is, I also have no idea how I’m supposed to survive without him.
Applause and laughter echo through the auditorium, and I look up from where I’m sitting just off-stage with Nate and Joni,catching Flint’s profile as he smiles. The question was a softball, something silly about staying in shape for all his shirtless scenes.
Flint lobs it right back, joking about good genetics and a team of twenty-five people all dedicated to the contours of his abdominal muscles.
Somehow, he manages to be perfectly self-deprecating while also pointing out the ridiculousness of regular people comparing themselves to celebrities who literally donothingon their own.
It’s the perfect answer, and clearly, the audience agrees because they’re still laughing and cheering in response.
I don’t envy the moderator’s job, who has to somehow make the entireTurning Tidescast feel like they matter when clearly, the audience is mostly interested in hearing from Flint.
I drain the last of my coffee and set the cup at my feet, anxious to be done, to finally be heading home. Flint and I still have a lot to talk about, but I just keep clinging to the hope that it will be easier in Silver Creek.
Everything makes more sense there.
Wemake more sense there.
But a tiny voice in the back of my mind reminds me that Flint makes sensehere,too. This is his world. And that isn’t ever going to change.
