I stopped moving. “I’m not.”

“You are. I know I’m a big guy and sometimes that can come across as intimidating, but I’m harmless.”

“No, you’re not,” I said with a laugh. I did not want to talk about this. I did not. I felt sweat break out on my hairline, and a wave of nausea made my stomach roil.

He looked really upset and pulled his arm off the seat, putting it back at his side.

I realized that I’d hurt him, and I hadn’t meant to do that. “I’m not afraid of you in the way you’re thinking. I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. That’s not it.”

He relaxed slightly while I wondered hysterically how much it would cost to steam clean the leather seat we were sitting on after I upchucked all over it.

While I concentrated on breathing in and out, he said, “You’re so hard to read. Part of my job is figuring out what makes people tick. Why they do what they do and what they mean by it. And sometimes, sometimes I feel like you’re attracted to me and you want me to touch you, and then other times you look at me like I’m a lion about to swallow you whole.”

“If anyone is looking at anyone in a weird way, I’m not the only one at fault here.” I felt tears at the edges of my eyes, which was so stupid. I was not going to cry about this. I wasn’t. “It feels like you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“When I told you earlier that you were easy to think of, I was being serious. I find myself thinking about you a lot. Trying to puzzle you out.”

What in the holy freak was I supposed to do with that?

He kept talking. “In the last couple of minutes, you’ve made enough space between us for a marching band to pass through.”

That was true.

And I considered something I’d never considered before. Telling him. There was something inherently trustworthy and reliable about him. Like he was so strong that I could depend on him to help me carry my burdens. Maybe it was because he’d spent this car ride telling me all about himself, trusting me, that made me think that I could confess. I’d get through it, it would be embarrassing, but wouldn’t it be a relief to have another person know?

I couldn’t tell him every detail, but I could tell him most of them. And then he would understand. He was a logical person. He would see that we couldn’t be together and nothing would ever happen and that while we’d had a nice time together, this was as far as things could ever go.