Black hair. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. Taller than me. And he blocks my way.
I stumble back, tripping over myself. The water thumps to the concrete and a hand whips out and grabs my wrist. Air leaves my lungs in a hiss when my body slams into the cinder-block wall.
My mouth opens again and a hot hand presses against my lips. A sob racks me and blue eyes lower to mine. “It’s me, Emily. It’s Oz. Right now I need you to be quiet. Do you hear me? Quiet.”
He’s whispering while he muffles my scream. Quiet is not what I need. My eyes dart around. We’re wedged in a small space between the vending machine and the wall. His body is pressed tightly to mine, so much so that it’s hard to draw in air. Cobwebs touch the top of Oz’s head. A spider the size of my fist swings precariously above us, its legs twisting as it spins its web.
A sound leaves my throat as a tear cascades down my face.
“Quiet,” Oz demands again. “Please, Emily. Be still.”
I blink at the please. His blue eyes soften and my senses go on alert. Almost like my energy is reaching out to find the real threat—a threat my instincts inform me is worse than what’s in front of me.
Oz slowly withdraws his hand from my mouth and the flood of cold air on my face causes me to tremble. He continues to lower his hand to his hip and wraps his fingers around the hilt of a blade stuck inside a leather sheath.
There’s activity beyond us. A slow tapping of a boot against the sidewalk. A scrape comparable to sandpaper against the concrete wall. Then a shadow. Large. Looming. The head of the dark shadow hits near my feet.
“The water bottle.” My lips move.
Oz tilts his head as if he sees the shift in my mood. “I know,” he mouths. “Shh.”
Chaos reigns inside my mind. Oz can kill me or Oz can save me or Oz can do one now and then another later.
The footsteps begin again, echoing closer to our hiding spot. Fear gains in strength, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over me. Oz weaves an arm around my back and circles us so that I’m wedged into the corner and he’s positioned near the threat.
Heat builds between us and my pulse beats wildly at my pressure points. He continues to gently guide me into the extremely small crevice behind the machine. My foot tangles with a cord and I trip to the right. My hand snaps out and I grab on to Oz’s belt loop as both of his hands land on my hips.
We’re crushed against each other. Warmth rolls off his body and onto mine. He must feel it—my fear, the blood drumming throughout my veins. My eyesight nearly shakes with it.
Oz does a strange thing. He smiles. It’s a crazy smile, but beautiful. My body tingles when he swipes his thumb under my shirt and across the sensitive skin of my waist.
He leans forward, his breath hot against my ear. Only one guy has been this near me before. Body against body. Thighs against thighs. Warm breath brushing the back of my ear. We didn’t go far that night. We didn’t go far at all—not emotionally, not physically...just not. And standing here pressed between a wall and Oz, my entire body becomes aware.
“If he finds us,” he breathes into my ear, “you run, Emily. You run and keep running until you lock yourself in the room. Then you call Eli.”
Oz pulls back and our noses almost touch. I strain to listen. No footsteps. No sound beyond my own frantic breaths. Then a thump to the concrete. Like a bottle dropping. My stomach sinks along with it. And there’s a rolling of plastic...getting closer...closer. So close that it’s next to us.
My eyes flash to Oz’s. I’m about to explode out of my skin yet he’s calm, steady, solid. He meets my gaze, never once looking elsewhere. The bottle continues to roll away...away...to the point I believe that the sound I hear is only in my mind. An echo of my fears.
No longer able to handle Oz’s intense stare, I lower my head and my body sags. Oz eases a hand to the nape of my neck, encouraging me to rest my head on his shoulder. I do, then inhale the calming scent of burned wood. It conjures images of bonfires on the beach. S’mores on the back patio with my father. Nights by the fireplace as a child.
Oz’s hand is hot on my skin and my muscles melt under his strong caress. An eternity passes. Stars are born then die. He relaxes his grip on me and my fingers curl into his belt loops when he tries to maneuver away.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
The rolling? It’s still in my head and so are the footsteps, but I shake my head no.
“It’s my cell,” he says under his breath, and sure enough I hear a vibration. “I need to answer.”
I release him and he slips his phone out of his back pocket. “I nine-one-one’d Eli and he’s on his way. I need to get you within walls. Stay here and don’t move.”
Oz steps back and I shiver with the cold infiltrating where he had been. My eyes widen. His knife is in his hand. I never saw him free the blade and I never felt him move to do so.