"What?"
"This, us, whatever this is. What are we doing?"
"There is no us."
"Bullshit. You followed me Thursday night, you protected me, you held me at my flat. That's not nothing."
His jaw tightens. "I was doing my job."
"Your job is to follow me to dinner with Maya? Your job is to hold me like you can't let go?"
"I shouldn't have done that."
"But you did, and now you're running again."
"I'm not running."
"You are. Every time we get close, you bolt." I step closer. "I'm tired of this, Rush. Either you want me or you don't, but you don't get to keep playing this game."
"It's not a game."
"Then what is it?"
He doesn't answer and I can see him struggling, see the war happening behind his eyes.
"I told you to figure your shit out," I say. "Have you?"
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple. You're just scared."
"Of course I'm scared. You saw what I'm capable of."
"I saw you protect me."
"I saw myself lose control."
"You didn't lose control. You stopped when I asked you to."
He runs his hand through his hair. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
I step even closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him. "I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
"Stop telling me what I should feel."
His hand comes up like he's going to touch my face, but he stops himself. His hand just hangs there in the air between us.
"I want to touch you," he says quietly.