A moment passes and my heart climbs upward in my chest, craving his touch again. Wanting to feel his lips on mine. I glance at the floor, steadying myself. “What now?” I ask.
“Depends on your answer to my question,” he says, his gaze locked firmly on mine. “Do you want to take a chance?”
I’m worried my voice won’t be there when I speak, but it rises upward from my throat, a gasp of air. “Yes,” I admit, surprising myself. “Do you?”
He shifts closer and I think he’s going to kiss me again, but instead he says, “More than anything.”
But then the light seems to leave his eyes and something else takes form there. “If we’re going to do this,” he begins, swallowing, “then we need to take it slow.”
I feel my eyebrows pinch together, not entirely certain what he’s getting at.
“I need to make sure you don’t get hurt,” he adds. I shake my head, really not understanding what he means. “There needs to be rules.”
“What do you mean, rules?”
“Guidelines for us being together.”
“You make it sound like it’s a business deal,” I say uneasily.
“It’s the only way this will work. The only way I can protect you.”
“You don’t need to protect me,” I say.
He winces slightly. “Yes, I do.”
“This sounds more like control than protection. What exactly are you protecting me from?”
He sighs. “My life can be crazy sometimes. And things move pretty fast in my world. I don’t want you to get caught up in it—I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Again, I’m pretty sure I’m capable of making my own decisions.” I can feel the anger starting to burn my cheeks.
“I just mean that you might not be prepared for it—the chaos that comes with dating someone like me. You saw what happened that night outside the bar. The crazy fans, everyone wanting a piece of me. It can be overwhelming. And I want to protect you from it. That means we take it one step at a time, we don’t rush into anything.”
“What does that mean—you want to be the one who decides when we see each other, when we go on dates, how far we go?”
He runs a hand over his eyes, a weary gesture. “Look, I know it seems extreme, but you don’t understand what it’s like. That night after Lola’s, that’s the tip of the iceberg. Everything I do is amplified, it’s scrutinized and studied and judged. I... I have to have control over everything I do.”
“And you want control over me, too?”
“No. But dating me won’t be like dating anyone else. It comes with complications and I’m the one who knows how to navigate them. That means I need to set boundaries. For your protection and mine.”
“Rules, you mean. And what if I want to see you, what if I want to kiss you? Am I allowed to do that?” My tone is short, and I realize I’ve crossed my arms, blocking him from getting any closer.
He blows out a breath of air. “Yes, of course. But there will be limits, at least at first. I need you to trust me.”
I shake my head and look away from him, clenching and unclenching my teeth.
“It’s just how it has to be, Charlotte.” But his voice is not soothing or pleading. He knows I’m beyond comforting.
My mother’s ring is suddenly heavy on my finger. I touch it with my thumb. “No,” I say, a chill rising across my flesh. “This isn’t what I want—not like this. I’m trying to understand, but all you want to do is set limits. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
“It’s the only way.” Everything about him seems hard, suddenly.
My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe what he’s saying. I drop my arms and straighten my posture, looking him straight in the eye. “Then I guess we can’t do this.” I take a full step away from him, my eyes unable to blink, my hands shaking. My whole life has been about me having control: controlling my future, making all the right decisions. Blazing my own path, like my grandmother said. I’ve never let anyone control me, and I’m certainly not about to start now.
He doesn’t even try to stop me, to convince me to stay, but I can feel him watching me as I turn and walk through the foyer.
I want him...but not like this.
I don’t look back, rushing out through the front door, my feet slapping against the stone and my eyes stinging from the surge of tears.
The still night air sweeps over me as soon as I step outside and I gulp it in, imagining that it will cool my burning flesh, all the places where he touched me.
The places where I will never feel his touch again.
*
I throw back the blankets, the heat palpable, sweat rising in a sheen along the curves of my body. The window is open beside my bed, but no breeze rushes through. There’s only the sound of insects ticking and humming, a world in motion.