Chapter 17 – Josie
chapter
seventeen
Josie
The lights went out, and everything disappeared.
One second, the tutoring center was bright and humming and normal, and the next, it was completely black.
My hands went flat on the table so fast I knocked Tyler’s pencil off the edge, and my stomach flipped.
Thunder rumbled. I hated storms. God. Could this get any worse?
“Power’s out,” I said, which was helpful to exactly no one.
The emergency lights kicked on. Two of them, wall-mounted, cast everything in a sick orange glow. They flickered once, twice, like they were thinking about if they should stay on or not, and then they died too.
Fantastic. This was fine. Everything was fine.
I sat very still and listened to the rain hammer the windows, telling myself that I was a grown woman and that it was only rain.
It didn’t help.
“The emergency lock engaged.” His voice came from my left, steady and low. “When the power cuts, the automatic lock kicks in. Facilities have to release it from the panel.”
“We’ll be okay. Facilities will send someone. They know we’re here.”
Thunder rolled through the building, and the rain got even louder against the window. I pressed my hands harder into the table because that was all I could do.
I hated storms. I’d always hated storms. I’d stopped telling people because the answer was always but you’re inside, like the problem was the rain.
It was never the rain. It was the dark and the sound and the way it made me feel seven years old again, in a house where the power went out and nobody came for me.
“Josie.” Waylon’s voice was low and gentle. Did he know I was freaking out?
“I’m fine,” I squeaked out.
“Oh I know. Besides, did I ask if you were okay? For all you know, I’m afraid of the dark and need a hug.”
A little snort escaped. How could he almost make me laugh when I was feeling like this?
“I’m getting in front of you. Don’t freak out.”
I heard him shift and the scrape of a chair. He was moving, and I followed the sound of him getting closer.
“I’m going to text facilities. Ryder knows the building manager.”
“Okay.”
You’re breathing too loud. Stop breathing so loud.
“Hey.” Closer now. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him off my shoulder. “Talk to me. We’ll be okay.”
“What makes you think I’m freaking out, Thor?” I was going for strength, but I was pretty sure he could hear the tremble.
“You’re doing that thing where your voice goes real controlled when you’re scared.”
He was right, and I was too busy holding myself together to argue.
The storm sounded like it was tearing something off the building, and I flinched.
“I don’t like storms,” I said.
“I guessed.” He had to be right next to me because I could feel him now, how big and warm and solid he was. “You mentioned it once. Week two of the project. You said you missed having a roommate during bad weather.”
I had said that, weeks ago, between takes. I’d forgotten about it.
“Don’t worry, I got you, Flash. Let’s get into the office. We’ll be more comfortable on the couch, and maybe we can find flashlights.”
All we had to do was wait for maintenance. How bad could it be?
I eased myself onto the couch. My phone flashlight cut a thin beam across the room. Waylon shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Can I sit with you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Of course. You can sit with me.”
He lowered onto the couch beside me, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
“You look jumpy.”
“I know it seems a bit much. But my dad and I were in a bad accident when I was about seven. A really shitty storm. The Tanley Bridge washed out, and we got caught on the edge. It took hours for them to rescue us. I broke my arm. My dad died in the hospital after, from a cardiac event.”
I still had the worst nightmares during storms.
“Oh shit. I’m really sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.”
“How come you didn’t call out today? We would have understood.”
I hugged my arms around my knees. “I needed the distraction.”
I shivered, and Waylon’s hand found mine in the dark, warm and still, and it helped more than it should have.
I turned my hand over, lacing my fingers with his.
“Okay. I’ve got you.” His voice was low and rough.
Shit.
Don’t cry. Do not cry.
“You’re not supposed to be this sweet.”
I could almost feel his grin in the dark. “Don’t tell anyone that the big bad center of the Tigers hockey team is sweet.”
“Probably no one would believe me anyway.”
“Boo,” he said. “I have a reputation to protect.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Thor.”
“Ah. Flash is back. Glad to see I can lift your spirits.”
“You seem to be very good at it. You must be the patron saint of lost causes or something.”
“Nah, I just like you. To everyone else, I’m a pretty big asshole.”
I just like you. The words hung in the air between us.
“What makes me so special?”
Just as I asked the question, the storm slammed the window. Waylon didn’t take his gaze from mine or let go of my hand. And when he leaned forward, I didn’t pull back, even though I knew I should.
You know you should.
When only inches remained between us, his thumb brushed my knuckles, and I went completely still.
“Josie,” he whispered, so quiet it was barely more than a breath. “Tell me to stop.”
I didn’t move even though I should have. His free hand came up, and his palm settled against my jaw, his thumb at my cheekbone, and something in me just gave way.
I hesitated. Everything inside me screamed, Don’t stop. Dear God, don’t stop. But I couldn’t speak. I could’t move.
“I’m going to kiss you know.”
Then his mouth found mine, and I stopped thinking.
His lips were warm and sure. He went slow at first, his thumb on my cheekbone holding me steady, his mouth moving against mine so carefully that my pulse skipped. Everything in my head went quiet. All I could focus on was Waylon’s lips and tongue and the slow heat spreading through my body.
I fisted my fingers in his shirt and pulled him closer, and after that, nothing about it was slow.
With a husky chuckle, his mouth opened against mine, and I tasted him. His tongue slid against mine, and I made a sound I had never made before in my life, low and completely involuntary. He swallowed it and kept going, harder and deeper.
Both hands cradled my face now, tilting me and angling me, and I let him because my brain had checked out completely.
His teeth caught my bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to light up every nerve I had.
I gasped against his mouth and felt him shudder, felt the tremor go through his whole body, and the knowledge that I could do that to him, that my mouth could make this man shake, went straight to my head.
This. This is what you’ve been running from.
He kissed me like I was something he’d been starving for and had just been told he was allowed to taste.
His thumbs traced the line of my jaw, his fingers in my hair, and everywhere he touched me burned.
I pulled him closer by the shirt, trying to erase what little space was left between us, and when his chest pressed flush against mine, I felt his heartbeat hammering through the fabric, fast and hard, and mine was doing the same thing.
He pulled back a fraction and rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“Josie.” The way he said my name, low and rough, was my opening to stop this, and we both knew it.
But I kissed him again because I didn’t have words for what I was feeling. I had spent weeks keeping my distance and managing every interaction and telling myself it was discipline, and none of it had prepared me for this man’s mouth on mine in the dark.
Then someone banged on the door, three hard knocks, and I heard a key in the electronic panel and a beep.
We broke apart like a current had gone through us. His hands dropped from my face, and I let go of his shirt. We sat back at the same moment, both of us breathing hard.
“Facilities,” Waylon said. His voice was rough.
“Right. Yeah.” Mine wasn’t better.
The lock clicked. The door swung open, and a man with a flashlight leaned in, sweeping the beam across the room with the energy of someone who’d been called out in a storm and wanted everyone to know about it.
“Students still in here?”
“Yeah, over here.” Waylon sounded almost normal, which was impressive because I was still a complete wreck.
We walked out into the hallway together. The emergency lights in the corridor were half on, casting everything in an amber glow, enough that I could see his face. His hair was wrecked, and his eyes had gone a dark mossy green and very serious.
Neither of us said anything for a long moment.
I pulled the strap of my bag up on my shoulder.
“C’mon. I’ll take you home.”
“Oh. That’s not necessary.”
His brows drew down. “I’m not arguing with you. My truck is out there.”
“Come on,” he said, and put his hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the side exit where the parking lot was closer. It wasn’t possessive or anything, just his hand on my back letting me know he had me, without making me feel like I owed him for it.
The rain hit us the second we stepped outside, and I flinched, full body. His hand pressed firmer against my back without hesitation.
“Right here.” He was already shrugging out of his hoodie and pulling it over my head before I could argue. Then we were running through the downpour, and he was opening the passenger door. I scrambled in, and the door shut behind me, and I couldn’t feel the rain anymore, just hear it.
He came around and got in the driver’s side, soaked through, his T-shirt plastered to his chest, which was not fair at all, and he started the engine without a word. The heater kicked on, blasting the inside of the cab.
The wipers swept the windshield, and everything outside was a blur.
We sat in the warm, dark cab of his truck and neither of us said anything about what had just happened in that office.
His hand was on the gear shift. Mine was in my lap. There were six inches of console between us, and I could still feel his mouth on mine.
“Where am I going?” he asked. His voice was still rough.
I gave him my address, and he drove. The trip usually took fifteen minutes. He made it in five.
I sat in his hoodie that smelled like him, warm cotton and soap and something underneath that was just Waylon, and I pressed my face into the collar and breathed it in while he wasn’t looking.
He stole a glance at me. I caught it from the corner of my eye before his eyes went back to the road, his jaw working.
When he pulled up to my building, I didn’t move right away. The rain was still falling, and his truck was warm. I wasn’t ready to be someone who had just kissed Waylon Johnson in a dark room and now had to go inside and be normal about it.
At my building, he was out in a flash, opening my door. When I tried to protest the escort, he just gave me a look that said don’t bother.
I looked at him, this man who remembered I missed having a roommate during storms.
And what do you know, he walked me all the way to the door, using his body and hoodie to keep me as dry as possible.
He waited until I’d opened my door before he spoke. “Look, I know I crossed a line. You have a boyfriend. A dumb one but still. I know I should be sorry, but I’m not.”
“Waylon...”
He didn’t let me continue. “You should know you have options. In the meantime, you can use a friend, and I absolutely am one. I won’t kiss you again until you ask.”
I stood in my doorway wearing his hoodie and pressed my fingers to my lips. They were still warm.
“Until I ask?” It came out small, half disbelief, half something else entirely. “You seem sure I will.”
“Oh you will,” he said with a chuckle, low and warm, and my stomach flipped all over again. Then he turned and walked out into the storm.
You are in so much trouble, girl.