chapter twenty-five

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Nova

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Nova

I don't sleep well.

With my mind focused on what happened at the beach, sleep is nonexistent. I spend the latter hours of the night listening to Warren's deep breathing as he tosses and turns. At one point, he's completely hogging the covers and the next, his breath is hot on my shoulder. It surprises me – he usually sleeps as still as a statue. Then again, I'm usually able to fall asleep easily. I guess that conversation affected us both in some way.

I feel like a selfish coward for keeping secrets locked behind my lips when he was selfless and brave enough to share with me the reasons behind his probation. I should have told him about Carter – God knows he deserves it.

The problem is, I get scared when it comes to talking about his death. It encourages all the emotions I felt during the time it happened to reveal themselves again, and sometimes it gets so overwhelming that I break down. And breaking in front of Warren isn't something I want to do.

Even after him saying he's there to talk to, I'm still scared to open up to him. I don't know if he'd be able to understand how extreme my situation is – was. Or if he'd be able to accept the fact that I'll never truly be able to get over Carter. My ex is always going to hold a special spot in my heart whether I like it or not. What we had between us was simple and inspiring, and I miss him so much because of that.

The other half of the problem is the undeniable magnetic pull I feel toward Warren. Sure, he is someone that can go person-to-person without developing an emotional connection, but he's different.

I mentally scoff at myself – the words sound so cliché, like something any girl would say to get people off her back about dating the wrong type of man.

They're the truth, those words. Can't you see how different he is?

I look at Warren. He looks like a young boy who hasn't been stripped of his innocence as he sleeps. As usual, I go through every moment I've spent with him this summer, ending with today's episode on the beach, the way he kissed me, so slowly and tenderly.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I see the look of dread on his face after I pulled away. From what I saw, I know he didn't dread the kiss – he dreaded my reaction. I know the guilt was clearly visible on my face and that's probably what made him react the way he did. I doubt he's ever seen such a look on a girl's face before.

For some reason, I begin to think about him accusing me of pushing people away. To some extent, I've underestimated him. I never would have expected him to be able to decipher me so easily. If he can see that I have a habit of pushing people away, then God knows what else he can see in me.

Can he tell that I have feelings for him?

Does he notice the guilt that saturates my very soul when his lips touch mine?

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