“I know.” My chest… my chest felt weird. “Have you seen Eli?” I blurted out, anxious to get away.

“Fight Club,” he sighed. “Don’t look at me like that and make up some shit about your brother. He left when everyone got in line to pay anyway.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I know what you meant, Sacha.”

“Sacha?” His thumbs drummed over my collarbones as he tipped his head down. “Now I know I really fucked up.”

“I’m fine. Really.” He shook his head, his expression an agitated one, and I forced a smile on my face. “Come on. Make sure no one kidnaps me on the walk back,” I said.

“You look like I just kicked you in your invisible nuts, and I feel like shit for saying something so stupid.” He slid his hands down my shoulders to my upper arms and finally to grip my hands, which were on my knees. He wrapped them in his before standing up, pulling me to my feet. He slid his hold until he had his fingers around my wrists, giving them a light squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you. Pinky swear.” He squeezed again. His tone was gentle and low. “I would never mean you, honey. ”

I didn’t say anything, settling for a nod, and he sighed again. His thumb stroked over the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, over a long vein that stretched on forever. Then he released me. “Let’s go.”

Keeping my eyes on the cement directly in front of each of my steps, I called myself an idiot for letting his words bother me and also for letting him know that they did. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why was I being so dumb about this? About him?

We had only walked a few feet in silence before he suddenly stopped. “How could you think I’d get tired of you? I’m the one always following you around. And—you’re so fucking cute, I can’t stand it half the time.”

Yeah, I was so distracted I didn’t see the curb.

I busted my fucking ass and almost ate concrete.

My knees thought they were competing in the figure skating national championships for first place, and my hands tried to win second.

Sacha shouted something, but I was too busy laughing at what happened—and telling myself to ignore the fact that he’d called me cute—to hear exactly what came out of his mouth. There were tears in my eyes as his hands went to arms to help me. Rolling onto my butt and then plopping it on the curb so that I wouldn’t get hit by a car—because that would be my luck—my chest shook.

“Are you okay?” he asked even as he sat next to me and flipped my palms up to take a look at them. “Oh, Princess,” Sacha hissed as the side of his thigh pressed against mine. Red scrapes with the barest hint of pooling blood marked the meaty parts of my hands.

“I’m okay,” I said on a shaky laugh as I peeked at the hands he was still holding in his. It was my knees that really stung. Pulling my leg close to my chest, I squinted and took in the two tears on my jeans between my shins and knees.

Honestly, I could have cried from the holes alone, damn it.

“Oh my God, these were my favorite,” I moaned.

“What happened?”

“My jeans are torn.”

Still holding my hands, his light gray eyes met mine. His mouth twitched. “You just fell on your face—”

“Not on my face—”

“—I thought you might have broken a wrist, and you’re worried about your jeans?”

Well, when he said it like that, it made me sound like an idiot. I coughed. “Yes, but I’m not hurt and these were my favorite pair,” I explained.

Sacha blew out a breath as he closed his eyes and shook his head.