Chapter 7

I almost said, “Boo,” but he heard me and turned around.

His face was a mess; tears and dried snot (ugh, I know), and his nose red from crying. “Jesus!” he shouted, throwing his phone across the room where it landed on the couch, scaring Paris. “Where were you? I thought you were dead or kidnapped or something! Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

I can’t tell you whether my confidence, happy mood, or heart broke first. I was filled with despair, then shame, then guilt, then love. I stepped over to him and put my arms around him, not sure if that’s what he needed, or if he’d lash out and smack me one first. I knew what I hoped, though, and my dick was agreeing with my mind. Even though I’d promised, well, promises could be broken right? But I had legitimately scared him, and now was not the time.