Stay by Jennifer Sucevic Page B

laboring as I try to catch my breath. Even though my heart is racing, I doubt it’s from the physical exertion.  Cole just has that kind of effect on me.
    I half expect him to jokingly throw out some stalker comment, but he doesn’t.  Guess we’ve moved on from that.  Which should make me happy… instead it leaves me feeling oddly… sad.  Like I can’t even have a normal relationship with someone because I’m too screwed up.
    His eyes hold mine, their golden intensity arrowing straight through me, making me shiver in the early morning sunlight.  “Hey, how’s it been going?”
    “Really good.”  Lie.   “How about you?”  Although I’m not sure if I want to know.  I’m half afraid he’s already moved on to some nice normal girl. One who doesn’t fall apart when he touches her.
    Awkwardness descends upon us like a heavy blanket.  Until I feel as if I could literally choke on it.  Which sucks because all the other times we’ve been together, our banter has felt easy, natural, teasingly light. This is anything but.  All I can think about is escaping before this conversation delves into tortuous.
    “I’ve been pretty busy with school and practice,” he says.  His eyes are still focused intently on mine as if he’s trying to figure out just what’s going on between us.
    He looks on the verge of saying something more when I quickly cut him off needing to pull the plug on this disastrously stilted conversation.  “I bet.  Well, I’d better get back to it.”
    His lips pull up but it’s nowhere near a full-fledged smile.  Not like the ones he showered upon me before… before he realized that I was nothing more than a nut job.  There are definitely no dimples in sight.
    Jesus Christ, why does that even matter?
    Truth be told, I’m frustrated with myself for even feeling hurt by this awkward conversation.  Clearly I’m in no frame of mind to be anything more than a friend to Cole.  On second thought, maybe not even that.
    Just as I’m about to take off, he quickly sidesteps into my path.  He looks like he’s about to reach for my arms, but at the last minute, slowly drops his hands down to his sides.  My wide eyes follow the movement before quickly swinging up to his.  My breath hitches.
    He must sense the questions burning in my eyes because he finally murmurs, “I’ve noticed that you don’t like to be touched.”  We stand across from one another, our bodies tense, our eyes locked.  Neither of us move.  I feel frozen in place.
    Sucking in a deep breath I finally force it out slowly.  I’m not panicking.  I’m more embarrassed that he figured me out so easily.  That he’s saying the words out loud where I can’t ignore them or pretend they don’t exist.  And that’s hard.  It makes me feel vulnerable, like I need to explain why I am the way I am.      
    “No,” I say quietly, “I don’t.”  And I leave it at that.
    He takes a small, tentative step towards me.  When I don’t back away, he takes another and then another until I have to crane my neck to meet his steady gaze.  Until I can feel the heat of his body so very close to my own.  As if he’s the sun and I’m drawn to the warmth of him.  I gulp down my nerves as I continue holding his eyes.
    If I’m not careful, I just might drown within them.
    “I can’t stop thinking about you, Cassidy,” he finally whispers.  Pausing, his eyes search mine.  “I’ve tried to,” he admits softly, with more honesty than I was expecting, “but I can’t.”
    Holding my breath, I’m unsure just what to say.  I guess we have that in common because as much as I want to push him away, part of me just wants to pull him close.  I’ve never felt so conflicted in my life.  I’m not ready to feel what he forces me feel.
    It scares me.
    He scares me.
    “Breathe,” he says gently and the moment he murmurs the words, I realize that I’ve been holding my breath.  Very slowly I release it out into the