Page 19 of I’ll Find You

“That,” he says calmly, “was definitely your fault.”

My face burns. “My fault?” I choke out.

“You leaned in first.” He’s enjoying this way too much.

“You told me to!” I argue.

His mouth curves slightly as he twirls another bite of pasta. “Still was your move.”

I stare at him, completely flustered. And the worst part? He doesn’t even look fazed. Meanwhile, my heart pounds so hard it feels determined to escape my chest altogether, humiliating me in front of him. I grab my fork again just to give my hand something to do. But when I glance at him, he’s smiling. Not teasing or smug, but effortless and so relaxing that it makes my stomach flip. And suddenly, sharing a plate of spaghetti feels like the most dangerous decision I’ve made all day.

Alex grabs the plate and rinses it in the sink while I drop the pans and forks into the sudsy water. “I’ll take care of this,” I say.

He glances back at me, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Yeah?” he says, although he doesn’t step away. “You cooked. It’s only fair that I clean up.” He smiles. Heat floods my face as the memory of his mouth against mine flashes through my mind. Without thinking, I brush my fingers over my lips, as though I can still feel the ghost of his kiss.

Alex notices immediately, and his gaze follows the movement. My breath catches, and I tilt my head away, suddenly very aware of him.

“Why don’t you shower?” I say, forcing my voice to sound casual. “I might head to bed soon. I have to be up early for clinicals. I can finish up here.”

He frowns.

“What?” I ask.

There's something conflicted in his expression. He hesitates, clearly debating whether to say what's on his mind.

“What is it?” I press.

“Are you going to be okay seeing that guy again?” He doesn’t say Maxwell’s name. He doesn’t need to.

I sigh softly. “Yeah,” I say. “He’s in my class. I’m bound to run into him. We have clinicals together.” I pause, biting my lip as I look away. “All of us,” I continue.

Alex nods slowly, thinking this through. “Well, if you need⁠—”

“I’ll be fine,” I cut in gently. “But thank you for the offer.”

He studies me for another moment before nodding again. “You have my number, Rose.”

I smile. “Thank you.” I turn back toward the sink, dismissing the conversation before it can wander into a heavier topic. Seeing Maxwell tomorrow is inevitable. Judging by the endless missed calls and messages, I already know it won't be pleasant. They have ranged from sweet to crying to yelling in various stages of rapidly changing emotions.

Behind me, I hear Alex move away. A moment later, the bedroom door closes. My shoulders finally relax. The whole evening feels like too much. The brush of his knees against mine. The warmth of his breath when we leaned toward each other. The way his eyes looked at me was like he could swallow me whole. My body still aches and craves it.

A few minutes later, I hear the shower start. My imagination betrays me immediately. I picture him beneath the spray, water running over those broad shoulders, over the sharp lines of his chest⁠—

Placing everything into the drying rack, I wipe the counter twice, just to keep busy while I attempt to keep myself in line. He's dangerous for me, I know that. Still, I can't bring myself to retreat to the bedroom while he's in the shower. I reach for my phone to distract myself. Two percent battery.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. My charger is in the bedroom. I glance down the short hallway that leads to the only bedroom. The shower is still running, the sound of water rushing against the tile. Quick trip. In and out. No problem. Two seconds, I convince myself, and push the door open without a sound, slipping inside before easing the door mostly shut behind me. I cross the carpet toward the bed in silent, socked footsteps. Just as I bend to unplug the charger from behind the headboard, the shower shuts off.

I freeze, then spring into action, grabbing the charger and turning around just as the bathroom door opens and Alex steps out. Too late. Steam follows him into the room, curling through the air. He abruptly stops when he sees me. Shock briefly registers on his face. I clutch the charger to my chest as it could protect me. He’s wrapped in a white towel, hung shockingly low around his hips, and another, a smaller one, is draped across his shoulders. Dark hair clings to his forehead as water drips slowly down the strong lines of his neck and chest. My eyes betray me. They drop ever so slowly to the towel, which dips just enough to reveal the sharp V of muscle beneath it. Water traces the path, knowing exactly where to go, and my mind chases it with wicked abandon.

Heat spreads through my body, slow and dangerous, until every nerve feels lit from within. The sensation gathers low in my stomach, sharp enough to steal my breath. When I finally drag my gaze back up, his jaw is tight. And the way he’s looking at me⁠—

It’s as though he’s barely holding himself in check. My breath stutters. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. His hand tightens around the towel as he takes a step toward me. I don't move. I don't think I could if I wanted to; my feet feel like cinder blocks, cemented to the floor. He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. For one impossible second, I think he's going to kiss me. Still, I don't move, even though every rational part of me knows I should leave.

But then he moves past me. His wet shoulder brushing mine, and sending a shiver straight down my spine. I squeeze my eyes shut. He grabs a shirt and pulls it over his head. The towel drops. I keep my gaze locked firmly on his face. I will not look down. I will not look down. I repeat this over and over, willing my body to comply. He steps into a pair of grey sweats. Holy sweet baby Jesus. He begins drying his hair with the towel around his shoulders before hanging it over the door. Then he walks toward the hallway.

At the doorway, he pauses. “Sweet dreams, Rose.” His voice is low. Rough. Then he vanishes down the hall.

I stand there alone in the bedroom, still clutching the charger, replaying these moments in my mind. And realizing just how dangerously close I am to losing whatever control I thought I had. Because if tonight proved anything, it’s that Alex might be the one thing I can’t walk away from.