24. Zach
24
ZACH
B y the time we reach her apartment building, Brenna’s trembling has lessened somewhat. She’s still soaked, though, and clearly in shock. I’m hoping if I can get her up to her apartment, her roommate will be home and be able to help her get changed and settled in for the night. I’m not exactly sure what to do with her in this state. My heart breaks for her, but I’m not sure how to help.
I jump out and run around to open her door, thankful that the rain has slowed to a drizzle. Once I see that she’s climbing out, I jog to the trunk and withdraw her bag. “What number are you?”
“Eight.”
I walk beside her, a guiding hand on the small of her back, not because I think she needs me to tell her where to go, but so she knows I’m right here. That I’ve got her back, so to speak. We reach her door and she fumbles with the key, finally unlocking it and practically falling through the door. It’s dark inside, so I guess that means no roommate. I brush my hand along the wall beside the door and find the light switch.
Brenna stands in the middle of the open floor plan between the kitchen and living area, hugging herself. Her posture is slumped in defeat, but she looks up at me and forces a small smile. “Thanks, Zach. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
I scoff and her eyes widen. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. You’re no trouble. I was glad to drive you home. I just wish there was something else I could do.” I take a step toward her, lowering her bag to the laminate floor. Tentatively, I reach out and cup her upper arm. “ Is there anything else I can do?”
She bites her lip as her face crumples, and I close the distance. She leans into me and my arms come up to wrap around her. I feel her shaking as she sobs and a rainbow of emotions flashes through me. I’m angry at her horrible boss for causing this. I’m sad for Brenna and the pain and uncertainty she’s facing. And a not so chivalrous part of me is relishing the feel of her pressed against me, even though she’s wet as a dishrag.
After a moment, she pulls back, swiping at her eyes. I hold her loosely, still rubbing one hand up and down her back. She lays a hand on my chest.
“Looks like I got you pretty wet.” She sniffs and looks up at me. “Sorry about that.”
Her hazel eyes are rimmed with red, but I can’t drag my gaze away. Something about her draws me in, and I feel what I felt after the race, but even stronger. Definite, undeniable sparks. I instinctively tighten my grip on her and my heart races as she leans in, our eyes still locked on each other, until her lids start to flutter closed. I let my eyes drift down to her pink lips, parted and so, so close. All I would have to do—all I want to do—is lean down the slightest bit to capture them with mine.
She’s upset. You can’t kiss her while she’s vulnerable.
The voice of reason breaks through the fog of emotion and I squeeze my eyes shut, then gently loosen my grip, letting my arms fall and taking a small step back.
Brenna’s eyes fly open and something like surprise then embarrassment sweeps over her face. Her cheeks are a fiery red and she covers them with her hands, taking a step back of her own.
“I’m so—so sorry,” she stammers. “I don’t know what came over me. I know you’re saving your first kiss for someone you really care about and I just…I just wasn’t thinking. Don’t mind me.”
She’s backing away as she speaks. I hold out a hand to stop her. “Brenna, it’s not?—”
She cuts me off. “It’s okay, Zach, you don’t have to excuse my behavior. Thank you again for getting me home and for visiting my family and just…everything.” Her voice cracks on the final word and she sniffs. “I don’t want to keep you any longer.”
And before I can say another word, she twists a door handle to her left and disappears into what I assume is her bedroom. I stare after her for a moment, stunned. What just happened?
I run my hands through my damp hair, grabbing it by the roots and pulling until the discomfort grounds me again. I don’t even know how to feel right now. She’s understandably upset and instead of making it better, it seems I somehow made it worse.
But how can I know if she truly wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss her? How do I know she wasn’t acting out of pure emotion, seeking comfort from the person right in front of her whom she normally wouldn’t be interested in?
Briefly, I consider going after her, but my gut tells me that would probably only make things worse. So instead, I put the bag of food her mother gave her in the refrigerator before letting myself out of the apartment, twisting the lock on the handle and testing to make sure it’s solid before I walk away, contemplating my transportation options. Since she picked me up on Wednesday, my truck is still parked safely at my townhouse, and I don’t want to drive away with her car in case she needs it later. I pull out my phone as I trudge down the stairs and call Grant.
“Hey bro, I need a ride.”