The man that Jenna's sitting on just rolls his eyes like I'm just a slight interruption. He roughly wrenches her head back around to kiss him again, his thumb digging into her cheek. My body freezes, all blood running from my head. Now that I've stopped her, I have no idea what to do.

"Do you know him, Emma?" The creep's hands are traveling so far up that it's all I can do to not wrench her off him myself. I'm not sure if I want to smack or protect her. A little bit of both.

Jenna's head whips between us. What I want to know is why she feels the need to kiss a man who doesn't even know her name.

What Jenna says surprises me. "This is my brother." I think this is the first time he's actually heard her speak because he looks disgusted. She gives me a death glare, daring me to contradict what she just said.

'You have a speech impediment or something, darling?" My blood curdles. "Next time you kiss someone, maybe don't talk. It's kind of a turn-off." My hands curl into fists. I know that she reads lips so well and something inside me wants to spring--I had been living in a delusional state that Jenna is all mine and I don't have to share. Now that her loyalties are being put to the test, I yearn for her to pick me. Some primitive pit in my stomach supplies me with a simple need to protect her for some reason.

"We're leaving," I sign quickly to Jen before grabbing her wrist. When she stands up, I shudder inside but pull her dress back down so she's decent. She violently yanks her hand away from me and my heart drops. She speed walks for the door, anger practically radiating in waves.

I allow her to move ahead, carefully avoiding puddles of suspicious liquids and trying not to inhale cigarette smoke. Jenna is practically running in front of me and I have to jog to not lose sight of her perfectly done hair.

When she dashes into the lobby of the hotel, I sigh in relief. At least she's not trying to run away completely. My thoughts are still whirling around in a blender of emotion on that whole episode that I saw. Something in my gut tells me that as soon as I see her face, I'll be painfully aware of where I really stand.

By the time I impatiently run through the automatic doors, she's out of sight. The woman manning the desk takes one look at me harried expression and points, saying, "She went into the family bathroom around the corner." I'm a bit surprised that she betrayed this information, but then she finishes. "She told me to tell you."

As soon as I slide into the small restroom and whip around to lock it again, she goes nuts. Crying, screaming, whipping around--a collateral hailstorm of fury. In an act of desperation, I finally just pin her wrists above her head and trap her against the wall with my entire body. In a submissive whimper, her forehead slams against my chest, hardly reaching my shoulder.

"Talk to me," I mouth to her before bending down and carefully kissing her forehead. "I'm just going to listen." I travel between her eyebrows and to her nose.

"There's nothing to say about it! I have a bad habit that I thought I had kicked. Then you made me so mad--"

"I didn't mean to shove you." The left cheek, then the right.

"I know. I shouldn't have kissed you like that." Her jawline is next.

"Like how I shouldn't be kissing you like this?" I stop right to the left of her lips.

She shudders and drops to the floor. "Exactly." Her head leans back against the wall and I sit as well, our knees touching.

I sign evenly, "I want to ask you some questions, but I don't want you to be mad." never looking away from her eyes. She stares at me unabashedly, her eyes set with this complete incompetency.

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