There’s some internal battle he’s fighting while sitting on my thighs, barely rubbing his palms on his legs. He doesn’t say anything and even though his eyes are on me, his gaze is unfocused, as if he’s not seeing me. Is he having some kind of panic attack? What the hell is going on right now? “Hey,” I say softly, slowly moving my hand to his. The second my skin touches his, he blinks. “You, okay?” His eyebrows pull together in confusion before he climbs off me and goes into the bathroom. What the fuck was that?
