Page 111 of If By Chance

But when his eyes meet mine, I lower my head to my lap from the sheer embarrassment of all he had to see tonight.

Then I forget how to breathe when he curls two fingers under my chin, tilting my head back up.

“Up high. You have nothing to hang your head for.”

My heart stops when his eyes land on my lips. It’s hardly long enough to notice, but I notice everything he does. I notice every glance. I notice every movement toward me.

“Besides, you’re far too beautiful to spend your life looking down. Don’t deprive the world.”

I gulp, feeling the ball of nerves in my throat settle in my stomach, fluttering around like I’ve never had a man look at me like this.

Because I haven’t.

Most importantly, Jake has never looked at me like this, and I’m surprised by how my body reacts to the wildness in his eyes. Instinctively, we both lean forward, and the next breath I take is the only control I have, hoping it will somehow pull him closer. Hoping it will make me forget because I’m suddenly not thinking about anything else other than how his mouth would taste and what it would be like if he pressed his lips against mine.

Would it be rough or gentle?

My thighs clench, and I run my tongue over my bottom lip.

But what the fuck am I doing?

We can’t do this.

Whateverthisis.

We can’t even think about it.

Bad idea.

Terribleidea.

I don’t know if his mind goes to the same place as mine, but we both seem to realize what a mistake this would be, and we lean back at the same time. His embarrassment isn’t as evident as he clears his throat and dips his chin.

I jump off the counter like the moment never happened. “I don’t think I’ll sleep. How about you order food? I’ll go have a shower and change, and we can watch some chick-flick.”

He pulls his brows together, not liking my suggestion. But hey, I’m the one with the mommy issues tonight.

“And we canbothget shit-faced drunk,” I say, ignoring how unimpressed he is by my choice of movie. “Then I’ll sleep.”

He doesn’t argue.

***

I shower quickly, not wanting to give myself too much time alone. Too much time to think. For my thoughts to consume me like they always do. They hurt, and they burn, and they rip me apart from the inside out because even when I’m as clean as I can be, sleep shorts and a t-shirt on, I still look in the mirror and see all the things my mother sees.

Eyes that don’t belong to me.

Eyes that hurt her.

Eyes that hurt me.

They haunt every waking memory and terror-filled nightmare. If I could gouge them from my head, I would. I’d do anything to look in the mirror and see something different. To not see the shadows dancing like a ghost behind my tears. But no matter what I do, the pain builds. It boils and bubbles in the pit of my stomach until it’s agony, and my body folds, my knees buckling. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

Silence.

It’s always silence.

Empty sounds.

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