Time-Lapse by J.B. Heller

Chapter Nine

I spendthe weekend with my girlfriends, shopping and attempting not to think about Hux while we watch the latest rom-com at the movies.

I fail. Miserably.

He’s quickly become my favorite person. I would rather spend time with him at the stream or the rest stop than with the people I’ve spent most of my childhood hanging around—even when he won’t let me kiss him.

Being with him is fun and exhilarating, but I never know from one day to the next if he’s going to kiss me senseless or push me away. And the fact that he still won’t tell me who hit him is driving me insane.

I want to ask him about it again, even though I know it won’t do any good. I have a feeling, deep down in my gut, that things aren’t good for him at home. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out since he won’t let me near his house.

When he first asked me to drop him at the end of his block, I thought it was just because we didn’t know each other very well. It took his reaction to my threat of knocking on every door on the street for me to realize it was so much more than that.

I wish he would open up, but that guard of his is built high around him. Regardless of his refusal to confide in me, he’s still my favorite person. Being with him is so easy.

I’m beginning to get tired of the front I put on for everyone else, and lately, I’ve found myself questioning when and why I even started doing it.

Waiting for Hux at the end of his street, I decide to torture him with some more of the J man, purely for the enjoyment I get from watching his facial expression when he recognizes who it is.

But the sound of the passenger door opening as I’m selecting the song ruins my plan. I grin at him, and a knowing gleam fills his eyes.

“You do it on purpose, don’t you,” he states.

My grin widens to a full-blown smile. “Maybe.”

Before I have a chance to press play, he’s sliding a CD into the player.

“Hey, driver chooses the tunes!”

“Then you best move your ass, princess, ’cause I am not listening to one more Bieber song if I can help it.”

I roll my eyes. “Jeez, who’s acting like a princess now?”

“Still you,” he retorts with a smirk.

I’m trying to think of a decent comeback as unfamiliar music filters through the speakers. “What’s this?”

The look he gives me can only be described as disgust. “It’s Blink,” he states but continues when he sees my deadpan expression. “Blink 182. You’re kidding me, right?”

I give him a blank stare. “Nope.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the headrest. “I’m genuinely concerned about your lack of musical education,” he says. When he looks back at me, it’s with pity.

“Hey, I have very eclectic taste. Just because it doesn’t include your little punk-rock boy band doesn’t mean I’ve been deprived of a musical education,” I say as I pull away from the curb and steer us toward the rest stop.

Outrage covers his features. “Stop the car. I can’t be with a girl who not only doesn’t know who Blink 182 is but then has the nerve to refer to them as a boy band.”

Laughter ripples up my chest. “Are we wearing our drama-queen panties today?” I tease.

Hux levels me with a flat stare. “First of all, I don’t wear panties. And second of all, I’m not wearing any underwear.” Then, he winks.

My pulse picks up its pace as I imagine his bare skin beneath his zipper. My eyes flick to his crotch before heat sears my cheeks, and I redirect my attention back to the road ahead of me.

“Feelin’ a bit flushed this morning, El?” He smirks beside me.

“Asshat,” I grumble under my breath. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s clearly enjoying it.

We make the short drive to the rest area in companionable silence, me thinking dirty thoughts and him sitting there with a smug-ass grin like he’s the cat who got the cream. I wonder if he knows the things running through my mind right now. Would he push me away again if he did?

When we get out of the car, he rounds the hood and waits for me with his hand outstretched, and I take it before he has time to retract the offer.

“What are you thinking?” he asks as we approach the picnic area we seem to have claimed.

“You don’t want to know,” I mutter. I’m sure my ears are as red as my cheeks, and I’m glad my hair is covering them.

Hux waits for me to sit on the bench before he settles in behind me then wraps his arms around my body and pulls me back into him. I’m surprised by this new position. It’s not that I don’t like it, just that he instigated it. Normally, it’s me throwing myself at him, hoping he won’t shut me down. This is the first time he’s willingly initiated contact.

I settle against his chest and enjoy the feel of his arms holding me.

“So, what were you thinking?” he asks again.

Shaking my head a little, I turn my face up to his slightly. “You really don’t want to know. It was in no way virtuous, so you wouldn’t be interested,” I say dryly. I’m no fool. I know he’s holding himself in check around me, especially whenever I try moving things in a physical direction.

I feel his chest rumble at my words. “I’m getting the sense that you’re a needy little thing, El.”

Settling myself more comfortably, I reply without looking up at him. “I am. But it’s not my fault.”

His fingers begin to trace patterns over my exposed thighs. “Yeah, whose fault is it?”

“Yours,” I tell him frankly.

He chuckles. “How so?” he says as his fingertips continue their tortuously soft movements.

“Where should I start?” I ponder aloud. “There’s that face … and those hypnotizing gray eyes that make me feel like I could fall into them like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. And those lips. I know what those lips feel like, and it’s impossible not to think of them on my skin, even when we’re apart,” I continue, and I can feel the change in his breathing against my neck.

“I’m a total sucker for that voice too. It’s deep with an edge of huskiness that makes me crazy. Every time you call me 'princess,’ it sends a shiver though my body. Then, there are these hands,” I say as I move my palms over his against my thighs. “Nothing feels better than these hands against my skin.”

“Fuck me, princess,” he murmurs from behind me, and I grin.

“I’d like to, but I have a feeling you won’t let me,” I say in response.

“Jesus,” he swears under his breath. But I hear it. His nose is against the shell of my ear, and I can feel the way my words are affecting his body. A hard ridge has formed against my butt, and I relish in the knowledge that my words alone can do that to him.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me, Hux?” I ask.

He chokes. “What?”

“You heard me. Why don’t you want to fuck me?” I repeat.

His hands have stopped moving, and his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of my thighs. “Jesus, El, you’re killing me here.”

“Answer the question, Hux.”

“Fuck, I want to. But we can’t. I can’t, El. I’ll be gone in a matter of weeks. I can’t stay, and I can’t take you with me. If I let myself feel you … all of you … fuck. I can’t, princess.” He pauses and takes a deep, ragged breath. “I already feel way too much for you. It’s already hard enough to control myself. If I let go, I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s exactly what I want to hear. To know he feels the same way about me as I do about him. It’s exhilarating. Tilting my head back, I look up at him, his gray eyes swirling with heat, lust, and restraint.

“If you say so,” I whisper and start to trace patterns on the top of his hands that are still gripping my thighs. I know there’s no point in arguing with him. In his head, we can’t be together.

I understand his reasoning. It would be smart to avoid any unnecessary hurt where we can, I guess. I mean, being a teen is hard enough, trying to figure out what we want out of life, and who we are, without dealing with heartbreak as well. And it looks like that’s the only possible outcome of this relationship.

But despite my understanding, I still want him. I still want this—us.