“I want to—” I stopped myself, sighing as I took a step backward. It was so hard to think straight standing inside his embrace. “I’m not…”

“Hey,” he said, brushing the back of my hand with his. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and motioned to the parking lot. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

My shoulders dropped as I followed him to his car—in relief or disappointment I wasn’t sure. I wondered just how much I would’ve told him if he would’ve let me stand there long enough. The way I felt around him—I was a blink away from spilling all my secrets. The ones eating away at my insides. The ones barely anyone knew about.

He pulled out of the lot, the colorful neon lights of the arcade filling up the back window for a moment before it disappeared. The darkness was both comforting and suffocating. I wanted to go back a couple hours and relive the night—end it differently.

At the very least I should’ve had my breakdown at my front door. Then I could’ve simply spun around and hid forever. Now I had to deal with the more-than-awkward car ride home. Not because Dean was being awkward, or because he’d been a jerk about the situation—the opposite. He’d become a better friend than I knew what to do with. And the things he was doing to the heart I was sure had been frozen solid? I was powerless against it.

Every time I spared a glance across the seat, my heart flipped. He drove with one hand on the wheel, his shoulder relaxed, his long legs bent to fit in the car. The damn Loki shirt fitting him perfectly. This boy…it was like I’d made him in a computer. A perfect combination of strong and understanding, smart and humble, funny and mature.

Damn.

And you just blew it because you can’t get Brandon out of your head.

Dean glanced at me, and I snapped my eyes back out my window, hating that I got caught staring. He chuckled softly.

“How about some Nero?” he asked, reaching toward his cell hooked on the dash once we hit a red light.

“Yes,” I said almost too eagerly. Music to cover up my blunder. The tears that were still drying on my cheeks.

God, what is he thinking?

I couldn’t imagine—a girl crying against his chest after he tried to kiss her. I’m sure that had never happened to him before.

At least I have that going for me.

I rolled my eyes at myself as Dean pushed play on a mix called “Dean’s #1” before the light turned green. He drove and cranked the volume before the song started playing.

A high-pitched, rhythmic beat blared from his speakers, followed quickly by Taylor Swift’s sweet voice singing “Blank Space.”