“Well, I...I didn’t want to become an accomplice to murder, I guess. And he would kill you.”
But we both knew that wasn’t the reason at all. As his attention fell to my lips and then dragged down my body, my cheeks flushed and my nerve endings crackled with electricity. By the time he made his way back up to my eyes, he was swiping the top of his teeth over his bottom lip.
“What’s your first name?” I blurted the question, though by now I already knew the answer.
I’d pulled out every school album I owned after our first encounter, and I’d spent an entire evening—or three—pouring over each picture I found of him. But I’d die before I let him know that.
“Knox,” he said with a slight rasp in his quiet voice.
Wow, I liked how he said his name. It sounded so much better than me reading it in my head, or me doodling it on a scrap of paper, or me sighing it while I daydreamed impossible scenarios.
I nodded stupidly at Knox. Knox Parker. Knox Arrow Parker. “I’m Felicity.”
He didn’t answer, and I blushed hard. Even if he hadn’t already known my name, he’d just heard Garrett yell it through the doorway.
I was such a moron.
Growing warm from an embarrassed heat, I brushed my hair out of my eyes with one hand and glanced at the locked bathroom door. As I did, pressure on my other hand drew my attention down to where my fingers were, yes, still clinging to Knox Parker’s calloused boy fingers.
But I didn’t let go of him, and he didn’t let go of me.
“How’s your head?” he whispered.
I tore my gaze from our hands to frown at him, confused. “My...what?”
Amused, he grinned. “Did I push you against the tree so hard you forgot you hurt your head the other day?”
“Oh.” I touched the back of my hair where the goose egg was long gone. “Oh...that. Yeah, it’s fine. I’m as good as new again. Or...you know, as good as I was before, which...really isn’t saying much, but...yeah, I’m okay.”
I cleared my throat and jerked my hand from my hair before I went back to staring at our interlaced fingers. It didn’t seem natural that I was elated, wanting this moment to last forever, and yet uncomfortably self-conscious, wanting to die from mortification, at the same time. But if I did die right then with my hand warm in his, I was sure I’d go a happy girl.
Which had to be wrong.
I needed to stop the madness.
“How long do you think we should wait until the coast is clear?”
A muffled yell reverberated through the house.
Knox glanced from the doorway to me. “A bit longer, I’d guess.”
I smiled, and he smiled back.
“It’s going to be a miracle if we get you out of here without anyone seeing you.”
He nodded, but he didn’t seem too concerned about it. He just kept watching me, until I cleared my throat, which seemed to alert him to what he was doing.
Shifting his attention to the vanity, he took in a counter full of all my scattered, intimate toiletries. I cleared my throat again, a little unnerved by his inspection.
“Sorry, it’s...yeah, a total mess in here.”
His gaze veered back to me. “You’re not like them, are you?”
I blinked, not following. “Like who?”
He hitched his chin toward my bathroom door. “The rest of your family.”
A slice of helpless depression swept over me. I glanced down at my hands—our hands—clasped together in such a familiar way. The comfort of holding on to him sat in stark contrast to the way every other awkward part of me felt.
“No,” I admitted glumly. “I guess not. I’m kind of the misfit.”
Definitely the misfit.
When Knox let out a small breath, I looked up. He’d furrowed his brows and pursed his lips as if he had something to say to that, except he didn’t.
I pulled my hand from his, sure he’d be glad to finally be free of me.
My fingers felt cold and slightly damp from pressing them against his, so I rubbed my palm against my hip, but then felt sad about scrubbing his touch away.