Page 127 of Chaos

I’m playing with fire. I’m playing withhim. I should get the hell out of here, that would be the smart thing to do, the kind thing to do, but I’ve never been much of either of those.

Instead, I step closer. I sidle between his spread legs and, after a long moment of hesitation, I set my hands on his shoulders. I repeat, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

With a relieved exhale that warms my midriff through the thin material covering it, Finn slumps forward. My breath hitches as his forehead presses to my stomach, as his hands return to my hips—to the curve of my ass, really.

All of a sudden, Finn stiffens.

When a hot groan makes my stomach clench, I frown at the back of his head. “What?’

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” Like he’s double-checking, his grip moves to the crease beneath my hipbones, to search for the waistband of the panties that are definitely not there. “Fuck me. You been like this all night?”

“You think I found a spare moment atmy brother’swedding to slip off my panties?”

He groans again.

I roll my lips together, stemming a laugh. “Is this a bad time to mention I’m not wearing a bra either?”

A third tortured noise burrows beneath my skin. Finn releases me, flopping onto his back. “Get out.”

This time, I do laugh. I back up too, but I barely manage a step before I’m halted by firm hands. “Don’t go.”

“You just told me to!”

Finn kisses the back of my hand. “Didn’t mean it.”

No. He clearly didn’t. He drags me into his orbit again, completely envelops me, palms pressed so tightly to my lower back, it’s as if he’s trying to fuse our skin together.

Finn buries his face in my midsection again, and I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life.

I’ve never been socomfortablein my life.

I’ve never been so unsure of what to do yetcompletelysure what I want to do.

When my hands tentatively return to his shoulders, Finn makes a pleased noise. His head turns to the side, his lips graze the crook of my elbow, his nose nudges the horseshoe tattooed there—he smiles at it, for some reason.

And then he smiles at me. Patient and honest and downright desperate. “What do I gotta do, Lottie baby? How can I make you believe me, hm?”

Nothing, I want to say.There’s nothing you can do. It’s me. It’s my problem, my fault. I can’t. I don’t know how.

I swallow, I can’t fucking breath again, I repeat, “Tell me when you're sober.”

“Thought I was telling you.” He frowns, gaze cloudy with unfocused contemplation. “Thought I was being obvious.”

I get it, suddenly. What he meant when he said I wasbreaking his heart. It was my cluelessness, my complete inability to understand all the little signs he thought he was so blatantly giving me. Fuck, it breaks mine a little too. “To someone else, maybe.”

“Okay.” He kisses my arm again. “I’ll try harder.”

That’s not what I meant, that’s not what I was asking for, but he doesn’t give me a chance to correct him.

“Will you stay here?”

I shouldn’t. I don’t know why, but I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want to, I think is the issue. It’s not in my nature.

Yet it feels oh-so-very natural to nod. “Okay.”

31

For the first time, he opens his eyes and she doesn’t disappear.

---