My whole body tenses up like I've been hit with a live wire. Just her voice and I'm already a goddamn mess. I shove the bottle under my bed and sit on the edge, gripping the sheets till they might tear. Like that's gonna stop me from doing something stupid the second she walks in.

"Yeah." It comes out rougher than I meant.

She steps almost hesitantly inside, and her attempt at a casual smile doesn't reach her eyes.

Fuck me.

The way she smells hits me like a sucker punch—lavender and something that's just... her. My mouth goes dry and my brain short-circuits.

God, I need to get a grip.

"I wanted to check on you after—" Her gaze drops to my bandaged hand.

"You shouldn't have been at that party," I growl, hating myself even as the words come out. But I need the wall. Need something between us before I do something we'll both regret.

Her smile vanishes and she takes a step closer, crossing her arms across her chest. "Seriously? We're doing this again?"

I don’t move, my skin's too tight and it feels like I might explode if I get near her. "That party wasn't for you."

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Because you saw what happens at parties like that. Guys like Connor—they're fuckboys. They don't care about girls like you." My chest tightens with every word, this mess of anger and fear and this other thing I refuse to name churning inside me. "He cares about one thing, and he almost got it last night."

Her posture stiffens, chin lifting in that way that drives me crazy, that makes me want to—fuck. Don't go there.

"I didn’t need your help."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The words tear out of me, raw and desperate. My hands ache to grab her shoulders, to make her get it. "What would you have done if I hadn't stepped in?"

Her eyes flash, and Christ, she's beautiful when she's pissed.

"I can handle myself, Nate. I'm not a fragile thing that needs protecting."

"That's not what I'm⁠⁠—"

"Then what are you trying to say? Because all you have been is a total asshole for no reason since the moment I got here."

She's furious, and some sick part of me loves it. The way her cheeks flush, the way her chest rises and falls faster. It's proof she still feels something around me. At least anger's better than nothing.

My silence is enough for her to turn around and head for the door. No way in hell am I letting her walk out like this.

Before I can think better of it, I'm up, slamming the door shut, trapping us in this too-small room. Her perfume's everywhere now, making my head spin. She gasps, this tiny sound that shoots straight through me, making my heart hammer against my ribs. I'm too close.

Way too fucking close.