Chapter 15: You Can Run But You Can't Hide

"Candice, wait!" Brad's voice hits me like a knife.

Shit.

Seconds later, he catches up to me, gently gripping the top of my arm. I turn around to find him looking at me like I'm insane.

"What did I say?" he asks, already apologizing with his eyes.

I shrug, trying like hell to look calm. This is too much. He is too much, so I blurt the first thing I can think of. "Why are you so interested in me?"

He looks at me like he didn't hear me right, so I repeat the question.

"Why are you so..." I take a deep breath because he's staring at me in the middle of the cafeteria. "So interested in me?"

His eyebrows go up. "I-I just am." The look on his face tells me two things. He's being sincere, and without a doubt, I like him way more than I realized until this moment. But I'm not the girl for him. He should be with one of those giggly cheerleaders eyeballing me at the table. Not someone like me who can barely walk into a crowded room without getting hives. I'm constantly straddling a thin line between chaos and insanity and he deserves better.

I look up and see hope in his brown eyes and can hardly get the words out. This is going to be harder than I thought. "You've been so nice..."

"Wait," he interrupts and looks around the room like he's about to say something he only wants me to hear. "Just come as my friend. That's all I want."

My heart is beating so fast and I'm silently cursing the tears welling up and betraying me at the worst possible moment.

Brad notices right away and takes my hand. "Come with me."

So I do.

He leads me around the hordes of people, cutting through lines of students still waiting for their food, finally stopping just outside the cafeteria doors. "Tell me what I did and I'll fix it."

His eyes are intense and focused only on me. Even a guy who walks by, calling his name, is ignored. It's uncomfortable when he gives me all his attention and no one else. So, I decide to tell him the truth because I don't ever do that anymore. I've become the martyr of deceit. Clearly, Mom has taught me well.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything." I half turn and he pulls my arm back, clearing his throat. I don't have to look at his face to know he's confused by my actions. So I try to explain once more.

"You barely know me and I've been nothing but strange and well, standoffish. I'm just not used to this." Before I know it, my stupid tears begin to blur my vision.

"Used to what?" he asks, almost in a whisper. Like if he talks in a normal voice I'll shatter into bits right here.

I look up at his brown eyes, the concern on his face making me pissed at myself for getting so emotional.

"This kind of attention," I reply, blinking as a warm tear drops down my cheek.

His expression changes, like all of a sudden he gets what I've been going through. Almost as if he's seeing inside my soul for the first time and he pulls me into his chest. The first thing I notice is how good he smells. All I want to do is stand like this forever. I haven't been held in so long and when his hand cradles my head I can't believe I'm questioning anything about him.

"Listen," he says, still whispering like he's talking to a scared child, "I like you, and I think we could be friends. We could have fun together. But if you're uncomfortable with that, I won't ask again. If you really don't want to go, I mean. But I hope you'll change your mind."

His other arm is around my neck and I have to really look up because he's much taller than me, especially this close. His brown eyes are speckled with green and seem much too perfect to be real. I feel my stomach tighten at the thought of something more with him.

He leans down and kisses my forehead and my eyes close automatically.

"And if you're uncomfortable in a big group of people, we can deal with that. You don't seem to mind when it's just me and you."

He's right, being with him one on one doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I really like it. And when he holds me like this I like it even more.

I'm not sure if it's his sincerity or the fact that I'm too emotionally spent to argue, but I want to give him an answer. It's as if he's a raging river, and I'm swirling in the rapids. Maybe for once I should allow myself to let go and drift over to the other side.

"Okay," I say, looking back up at his face and hoping I don't regret this.

"Okay, what?" His brows push together.

"I'll go with you tomorrow."

His expression is worth the sacrificial lamb I just killed to say those words.

"And I want popcorn."