couldn't stand to be here, humiliated and stupid and hurting, and try to be nice to him, even though he needed it. Maybe even deserved it.
"Claire!" Shane tried to get up, but his feet wouldn't stay under him. "Dammit, wait - my legs went to sleep; wait! Claire - "
She didn't wait, but somehow, he managed to follow her, lunging after her with feet that must have been like running on concrete blocks. He tripped into her and they fell onto the couch. Claire smacked at him and tried to struggle free. "Let go!" she said around her sobs. "Just let go!"
"Not until you tell me what just happened. Claire, look at me. I don't understand why you're upset!"
He really didn't know. He was all but begging her to tell him. All right, then, fine. "Fine," she said aloud, in a voice that trembled more than she wanted. "I get it. You don't want to be with me right now. Maybe not ever. I understand, it's been a long time, and . . . your dad . . . I just . . . I can't . . . Oh, just let me go!"
"What in the hell are you talking about?" And then he got it. She saw him run it through his head, and his eyes widened. "Oh my God. Claire, you thought I meant I didn't want - No. God, no. When I said, 'I don't want to be here,' I meant I didn't want to be there. You know, sitting on the cold floor with my ass turning into an ice-berg. I wanted you. I just wanted you somewhere else." He shook his head. "I meant it as a joke. I was going to say, 'I want to be on the couch.' Okay, it was stupid, I know. Sorry. I never meant you to think - Wait. Why would you think I'm not into you, anyway?"
Because I'm a girl, Claire thought. She was barely able to contain the relief welling up inside her. Because we're all stupid and insecure and think that we're never, ever good enough. She didn't say that, though. Some things it was better for boys not to know. "I just . . . It's been a tough day." She was still crying, and she couldn't seem to stop. "I'm sorry, Shane. I'm sorry your dad - "
"Hey." He touched her cheek. "It's bad, but I can deal. I'm more worried about you."
He always was. "Why?"
He wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks. "Because I'm not the one doing the crying, for one thing."
She nodded, shuddered, and started to gulp back the sobs. He waited, holding her, until she was finally quiet - relaxed in a way she hadn't been before.
Weirdly happy just to be here, with him, no matter what had happened or would happen. This moment, she thought. This moment is perfect.
"Shane?" she asked. She felt drowsy now, lazy in the warmth of his body.
"Yes?"
"Do you have any wild men-behind-bars stories?"
"Not really. Sorry to tease you," he said, and traced his finger down her cheek and over her lips. Slowly. "You know I spent a lot of time thinking about you, don't you? About how you look, how you smell, how you taste . . ."
"Creepy stalker boy."
He kissed her. There was something new in it, something fierce and hot and wild, and she felt needs explode inside her she didn't even recognize. Her whole body lifted, like she'd become metal to his magnet. Shane groaned and rolled her over on her back, his weight on top of her, and kept on kissing her like it was the most important thing in his world.
His lips left hers gasping for air, and traveled down her neck, around the collar of her T-shirt, and his hand dragged the fabric down to expose more skin to his kisses.
Off, Claire thought incoherently, and tried to pull the hem of her shirt up.
Shane's hand stopped hers. She looked up at him.
"Not here," he said. She waited. He looked wary. "What?"
"I was just waiting for you to say, 'Not now,' too. You know, like always."
He smiled, and it was pure Shane - full of edges and yet oddly sweet."Claire, I just got out of jail. Do you honestly think I'm bucking for sainthood or something?"
Her whole body burned with a sudden burst of furious energy. He just said yes. Oh my God. All she could think of to say was, "Tell me how much you missed