“Stevie,” he starts, hesitating as he sits in the driver’s seat. “Let me explain—”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” My voice is raw and hoarse, residual strain from the performance, mingling with pain. “I messed up. Let’s just forget about it.”
“I didn’t mean to react like that. It was just…I don’t know.” He glances at me, his expression tormented. “Instinct.”
My face blooms with fresh heat.
Instinct.
An involuntary reaction to my lips on his, to this underwhelming farm girl thinking she’s worthy enough to kiss the movie star. “Thanks, Lex. That makes me feel better.”
“Shit.” He blows out a sigh of frustration, shoving a trembling hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I get it, okay?” I curl into myself, wishing I could dissolve into the seatback. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have to understand—”
“Just drive me home, Lex.”
“Dammit, Nicks, just let me—”
“Stop!” I practically shriek the word. Treacherous tears fall from the corners of my eyes, leaving hot trails along my cheekbones. I swipe them away, his unsaid words digging six-foot holes in my dignity. “Please, just stop. I said I don’t want to talk about it. I want to pretend it never happened.”
I see him hesitate in my periphery.
His hand clutches the wheel.
“Okay,” he finally says, two jagged syllables.
He buckles his seat belt, jams the gear lever into Drive, and we take off down the neighborhood street.
Lex goes quiet, and only the sound of the engine fused with tires crunching across snow breaches our bubble. The silence is heavy, a poignant weight pushing on my chest. There’s a buzzing in my ears, a shrill hum. His horrified expression streaks across my mind, the way he shoved me away, the way he stared at me like I’d just betrayed him in some awful, vile way.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
The silence stretches along with the miles as I gaze out the window at the slashes of white and blustery tree branches. I want to turn on music as a way to dull this deafening hush, but I can’t move. I’m scared to move. I’m afraid he’ll try to talk to me again—try toexplain—and I am not ready to hear his words.
I don’t think of you like that.
I’m not attracted to you.
You’re just a friend.
“Hey,” he whispers after a few minutes pass.
My eyelids flutter closed, lashes still damp. I swallow hard but don’t respond.
“Nicks.” Another whisper, just a tiny crack in the void. “Can you…talk to me? I need a distraction.”
Cautiously, I turn my head and sneak a glance at him. His eyes look heavy. Heavy like my heart. I watch as he inches the window down until a jolt of frigid air permeates the car and snatches up my breath.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, quickly closing it.
Lex taps his hand at his thigh, his opposite hand white-knuckled around the steering wheel. He’s anxious, fidgeting, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Empathy trickles through me, seeing him so rattled, but I can’t summon my voice.
I can hardly breathe.
