“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?”