Page 86 of Bound to a Killer
I glance at him for just a moment, then up at the pellucid blue sky, pretending it isn’t strange for us to be walking side by side.
Jayce has been kind, patient, and surprisingly persistent with me. But what I can’t shake off iswhy. I mean, I know he’s friends with Clara and apparently has been since childhood, but that doesn’t mean he has to like me, too.
I want to ask why he’s doing all this. Why wait for me to get off work again? Why walk me home and ask me to prom? The questions press at the edge of my tongue, but I swallow them back, not wanting to lay bare my uncertainty.
I told myself I’d be different this time. Swore I’d give life and people a chance again. So why can’t I shake the quiet thread of doubt tugging at the back of my head?
We trudge up the hill into my neighborhood, my thoughts spinning inside, silent loops, like a rinse cycle stuck on repeat, until finally, we reach my driveway.
“Do you think I can come inside for some water?” he asks, cutting through the churning in my head.
I blink at him wordlessly, seconds slipping by before I snap out of it, my gaze dropping to the box in his hands. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, I’m just not used to bringing anyone inside.”
Patting my jeans, I dig for my keys, fumbling as I jab them toward the lock. I step in first, shifting aside to let him enter. His eyes scan the entryway as I shut the door behind us, an uneasy knot settling low in my stomach. Nobody besides Clara has been in here, and even that was rare once we started hanging out at her place more.
He follows me past the staircase and into the kitchen. Thankfully, between work and school, the place has stayed mostly tidy. I only ever sit in my room anyway when I’m home.
I pour him a glass from the tap and hand it over once he sets the box on the faded laminate counter, its surface marked by swirls of beige and brown, the edges slightly lifted from water damage. He downs it in seconds, like it’s a shot of tequila, then places it down with a soft thunk.
“Thanks,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. He holds my gaze a beat too long, then flicks to my lips.
I hadn’t realized how close we’re standing until now.
I stand so still I forget to swallow. “No problem.”
He closes the inch between us, leaning in. My heart skitters in my chest, then stills, his breath brushing my own. A silent question flickers in his eyes. I must’ve nodded, because next thing I know, his lips are on mine, pressing a kiss so soft it almost feels hesitant.
Then he deepens it, turning the softness into something rougher, messier. It’s the kind of first kiss that tries too hard to be something it’s not, too eager and mechanical. Rushing to impress.
Except this isn’t my first.
I dig my fingernails into my palm, desperate to quiet my mind, to feel something. Anything. But the spark never comes.
Regret coils low in my stomach, the tightness stretching north until my chest aches with it.
I push him off, breath shaking, tears already prickling behind my eyes.
Why am I crying?
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his breath catching. He cups a hand to the side of my face as shameful tears drip into it. “What happened?”
I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“I-I’m sorry, Jayce,” I say, stuttering through heaves of tears that only come faster, humiliation carving into my chest.
He’s quiet for a second, my choppy, breathless sobs taking over.
“What happened?” he asks again, rubbing a tentative thumb across one of my wet cheeks.
I suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady my voice, and pull away from his touch to wipe at the tears. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, finally lifting my gaze to his. “I think I made a mistake.”
He waits for me to go on, to explain myself, but I just keep apologizing, like a broken record. I don’t even know what else to say.
The whole thing is confusing even to me. I thought I wanted this. I thought I was ready. But I can’t shake the past. It’s all still too fresh in my head.Ledger’s too fresh in my head.That’s not something I can easily explain to anyone, let alone Jayce.
Anger begins to crease his brows and shadows his eyes as he snaps back, widening the space between us even more. “Then why the hell did you lead me on?”
His tone is sharp, biting. It makes me recoil, flashing me back to all the times Steven used to shout at my mom while I listened from under the covers.
