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  “That is exactly what makes you not an asshole,” I said.

  He smiled and shrugged. “It’s not an excuse. But it’s why I did what I did with you that day. It’s why I’ve been trying to avoid you.”

  I reached for his hand across the table, and he didn’t pull it away. I held it out to look at the palm and traced the lines of it with my fingertip like I was telling his fortune, though I could only go back and not forward. “So then how come you’re here with me now?”

  Johnny closed his fingers over mine, holding my hand tight. “Because no matter where I went, you were there.”

  “You make it sound like I was stalking you.” My words came out in a whisper, throaty and hoarse.

  His eyes gleamed again. His thumb rubbed over the back of my hand and I felt that touch all the way through me. “Not stalking me. Just impossible to get away from.”

  “And you wanted to get away from me?” This stung less than it should’ve, the words counterbalanced by the heat in his gaze.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why, Johnny? Why would you want to get away from me?”

  “Because you scared me.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I’m not scary. Really, I promise. Bossy, maybe…”

  “Bossy, definitely.” He squeezed back.

  “I just… I can’t explain to you why,” I told him in a low voice.

  All around us, the clatter of forks on plates and low murmur of conversation reminded me we weren’t alone, and yet nothing else was in front of me but Johnny’s face. We held hands like lovers, though that wasn’t quite what we were. Then again, it wasn’t what we weren’t.

  “There’s something about you, that’s all. I know you’ve probably had a lot of women tell you that—”

  “Hundreds, easy.”

  I squeezed his hand hard. “Hey!”

  He laughed and my grip softened. Our fingers linked. It was a little awkward, stretching across the table this way, but I didn’t want to let go of him. Not now that I’d grabbed him. Held him tight.

  “None like you, Emm,” Johnny said. “None like you.”

  Chapter 19

  I chose to take that as a compliment, even though I wasn’t entirely sure he meant it as one. I made it through dinner without embarrassing myself, although every time he wiped his mouth I wanted my cunt to be the napkin. I thought he had to know this about me, but if he did, he made no sign of it. He just talked.

  And then…he took me home.

  I hesitated on the doorstep, hoping he would kiss me. And he did. On the cheek, soft and sweet, at the corner of my mouth. I tasted garlic and olive oil, but though I opened my mouth, it was too late. He’d already pulled back.

  Scent of citrus, carried on the cold night air.

  I took one step back.

  “Johnny,” I said, but it wasn’t now-Johnny who answered.

  “This good, babe?” he said from behind me in that butter-slick voice, thick and sweet and low, and I turned to face my foyer and wound up rolling over in Johnny’s bed.

  “Johnny?”

  Naked beside him, my body slick with sweat, his hand between my thighs. His fingers moving. And just like that, I was shivering and shuddering, consumed with pleasure.

  And just like that, blinking, I pushed myself up from the cushions of my couch. A damp cloth fell from my forehead. Water had run down my cheeks and wet the front of my shirt. My hair was wet.

  “What the hell?”

  Johnny had been pacing, biting his thumb, and now whirled to sink beside me. “Jesus Christ, Emm!”

  He went to his knees in front of me and gathered my hands in his. He rubbed them together. I sat up, but he pushed me to stay still.

  “What happened?” My stomach, sick and churning, twisted into knots. I was sure I already knew.

  “You went dark.”

  My mouth opened when he described it the way I always had. “What? How…how long?”

  “Fifteen minutes. Shit.” Johnny got up to pace again, running a hand over his hair, which then flopped into his eyes. “I was going to call the ambulance in another five minutes.”

  “Oh, God.” I sat up all the way and swung my legs over the edge of the couch. I put my face in my hands, bending forward to combat the faint feeling rushing over me.

  I felt his weight beside me. His arm around me. “You fucking had me so worried, Emm. Jesus.”

  He got up after half a minute and paced again. “I’m calling the doctor.”

  “No!” I looked up. Johnny stopped. “No. Please don’t.”

  Tenderly, he sat next to me again and took my hands in his. “Emm…I have to. You were out like a light. I shook you, nothing. Said your name. Nothing. Fifteen fucking minutes, Emm. I was so worried.”

  Alarmed, I heard his voice break and I looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry. But please, Johnny. Don’t call the doctor.”

  “But if there’s something…”

  I shook my head. “I told you before. This has happened for years. There’s no treatment. And if you make me go to the hospital, they’ll do all sorts of tests. I’ll lose my license again. Without my license, I can’t work. And if I can’t work, I can’t afford this house. I won’t be able to live here anymore. I’ll have to move back home with my parents….”

  “Shh,” he said. “No, you won’t.”

  I shook my head again, fighting tears. “Yes. I will.”

  “I’ll drive you to work.”

  I swallowed hard. “You’re not even… Why would you do that?”

  “So you’re safe,” he said. “So other people on the road are safe.”

  “No. I mean, why would you make that commitment? Why would you help me like that? We’ve had one date,” I said. “What happened in the kitchen aside, one date. And before that, you barely spoke to me. I mean, I think we’ve sort of cleared up why, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have no reason to get involved with me like this. To make promises.”

  “To help you?” he asked, and brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I help you, Emm?”

  “Driving me to work?” I gave a short, harsh laugh and got to my feet. “That’s not helping me. That’s taking care of me.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  I turned to face him. “You barely know me.”

  His mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed it again a moment later. He looked pained. “If you don’t let me drive you, I’m going to call 9-1-1 and tell them I found you unconscious. They’ll send someone, and you can try to lie about it, but with your medical history, don’t you think they’ll figure it out?”

  “You wouldn’t.” Tears sparked in my eyes and my throat got tight.

  Johnny looked at me seriously. “I would.”

  “What a shitty thing to do!” I cried, though I knew he was right. This had gone too far; I’d be wrong to endanger myself and, worse, others.

  “I know,” he said, and reached out a hand to grab my wrist and pull me a few steps closer to him. “I know. I’m sorry. But I have to.”

  I let him pull me up against him, and though I tried not to cry, I did. His hands smoothed my hair, over and over, and his breath whispered over the top of my head. I closed my eyes and held on to him, tight.

  “But you don’t even…” I let the protest trail away. I’d wanted this. Why was I fighting it so hard?

  “I want to.”

  That wasn’t what I’d been about to say, but I nodded. My cheek rubbed the front of his shirt. The buttons scratched. I pulled away and tipped my face to look up at him.

  “Johnny?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  I blinked at the endearment, which sounded so familiar. “Thanks.”

  He smiled and traced my eyebrows with his fingertip. He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. “You’re welcome. Hell, I’m home all day, what the hell do I have to do but play chauffeur, anyway, for a pretty girl?”

  He’d called me “girl” again, and the “pretty” didn’t