A few paces down the corridor, Bryan reached out and gripped my elbow, staying me. “Are you really okay? The way you screamed, it sounded like someone was murdering you.”

Renewed heat flooded my cheeks and I released a self-deprecating laugh. “Did you see the size of that thing? It was larger than most dogs.”

Bryan chuckled, his lovely eyes twinkling down at me, but he didn’t release my elbow. “Yes. I know. I had a pint of roach innards smeared all over my hand.”

“Well at least it’s not on your arse.” Now I was laughing in earnest and so was he.

I leaned against the wall, feeling like I needed the support for some inexplicable reason. I felt spent. Yes, I was tired. I was always tired. But I shouldn’t have been this level of exhausted.

“Hey. Let’s sit for a minute.” He tugged on my arm, pulling me down next to him as he sat on the floor, and then relinquished his hold.

“Oh God, this is so embarrassing,” I mumbled, pressing my hands to my cheeks and staring straight ahead.

“No, no. This is nothing.” Bryan nudged my shoulder with his. “You don’t know the meaning of embarrassing if you think this is bad.”

I peered at him, a doubting frown on my features. “Oh really? Screaming like a lunatic and ripping off my shirt in front of half the team wasn’t embarrassing enough for your standards?”

“Don’t forget when I smacked you on the arse,” he teased.

“How could I forget?” A slightly hysterical chuckle burst from my mouth. I felt like crying with the sheer frustration of it all.

Why did he have to witness me mid-cockroach breakdance?

And why did he have to be so nice about it?

And why was he sitting so close now?

And are those gold flecks in his green eyes?

I forced myself to swallow and look away. “You have to admit, my display of cockroach-induced insanity is pretty high up there on the embarrassment scale.”

“Nope. Not even close.”

Unable to help myself, I peeked at him. A new grin stole over his lips, also stealing my breath.

Thankfully, he didn’t expect me to speak. “One time, at a victory party—of course I was shitfaced—I spilled my beer all over the general manager’s son.”

I felt my eyes widen. “Ah. That’s bad.”

“Even worse, his son was only six weeks old.”

“Oh no!” I covered my mouth. “You spilled your beer on an infant?”

“Yes. And not a little spill either. The whole beer, a double pint. It was a complete accident, but I felt like such an arsehole.”

“That’s terrible.” I was cringing but also fighting uncomfortable laughter.

“Yes. It was.” He nodded, his eyes growing hazy, the smile slowly disintegrating off his face. The dissolving smile left a ghost, a pale shadow hovering behind his eyes, like the memory haunted him. Like his past behavior haunted him.

My heart chose that moment to twist in my chest, a sudden ache on his behalf. Bryan looked entirely remorseful. Witnessing his sadness made me oppressively sad. The oppressive sadness spurred me to act.

“One time, in my research methods class,” I blurted and then paused, waiting until his eyes focused on mine before continuing, “our professor asked us to arrange our data sets by key demographics. So I raised my hand, and he called on me. In front of the entire class, I meant to ask him something like, You will want to see a categorization of subjects by gender, won't you? But instead—unthinkingly—what I actually said was, You'll want to have sex, won't you?”

Bryan choked on a startled laugh, his mouth falling open, then tilted his head back and laughed again, this time with gusto. The sound was intoxicating, a deep, rich, uninhibited rumble. My worry for him eased as I indulged myself in a rare moment of watching Bryan unabashedly. He looked happy, and his happiness in that moment made my heart swell.

Stupid heart. Stop swelling. Swelling is bad for you. Stay small and protected.

But I couldn’t help it. His earlier guilt had struck a chord with me. My eyes trailed over the curve of his lips, the line of his jaw, his neck.

Forks, he was handsome when he was happy. So handsome. Magnetic. And when he laughed, he was devastating—free and open and alive—he made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t experienced since . . . since . . .

That night.

I wasn’t laughing and I wasn’t smiling, because my heart—the one that had been twisting then swelling just seconds ago—was now lodged in my throat.

Bryan’s laughter tapered, and he wiped a tear of hilarity from the corner of his eye, glancing at me. When his gaze met mine, he did a slight double-take, blinking, his eyebrows inching upward with what looked like surprise.

“Eilish?”

Any minute now, he was going to stand up. Any minute now, he was going to say goodbye. Any minute now, I was going to watch him leave.

Do something!

But what could I do? Tell him I was infatuated with him? Because that’s all this was. Infatuation. Wishing. Dreaming.

I thought I was past this.

“Hey?” His eyes moved between mine, then dropped to my lips. He licked his and whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, also whispering, “Yes.”

He leaned forward, just a hair’s breadth, his attention still zeroed in on my mouth. “What are you thinking about?”

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I tilted my chin, closed my eyes, and I kissed him.