ᴛᴏᴏ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ » ᴢᴀᴄʜ ʜᴇʀʀᴏɴ

Chapter Twenty-Five

Zach bolted upright in his bed, jaw set, mind made up.

He didn't think as he yanked the door to his hotel room open and raced down the hallway, driven by raw frustration and anger with himself.

His head didn't catch up with his actions until he'd already knocked on her door.

She opened it a few seconds later, and for the first time that day, he really looked at her.

The bags under her eyes were a display of being sleep deprived, and this time he knew it wasn't due to schoolwork. Her gaze didn't appear hostile, just distant. She looked abnormally small standing there half-behind the door, as if she were folding into herself.

Everything he'd been feeling against himself melted away instantly, flooding with guilt and fear.

She turned then, walking into the room. He braced his arm against the door, holding it open as he followed. He eased the door shut before turning to her slowly.

She was standing near the bed, putting quite a bit of distance between them, facing sideways so he could only see the right side of her face and body. Her arms were folded limply over her chest, and it was the most unresponsive state he'd ever seen her in.

He couldn't imagine what she'd been thinking all day. He couldn't stand that he'd made her feel like this, and he was aching to reach out to her, to make her understand that it wasn't her, that it was his fault and his problematic thought process.

The fact that she'd confessed her feelings for him and said he was the reason she didn't want Greyson combined with Eben's interruption was all too much for him. He couldn't process anything, and by morning, he still didn't know how to approach her. He didn't know how to address it, what to say, how to make her understand that he felt the same way about her.

But that wasn't enough. His own worries of talking about the incident shouldn't have been enough. He should've done something, anything to ease her mind, at least until they could converse about what had nearly happened. But he didn't, and now he'd hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice so devoid of its usual confidence that it didn't sound like his own.

Maeve didn't move, seemingly unaffected.

Zach watched her leg bounce once, twice, three times, and then her aura shifted from impassive to visible hurt.

"We were interrupted, Zach," she said, tone low and wavering. Her eyes were glued to the wall, near the old picture frame of a painting. "It happens."

She made the gesture of an exhausted shrug, as if she didn't even know what to say for a moment.

"I've never confessed my feelings for anyone my entire life," she said, words more firm. She turned to face him, her eyes catching a glint of fire. "And I didn't know what to expect, I didn't sleep all night, I was scared out of my mind, and then you couldn't even look at me. We couldn't have a conversation, we couldn't even talk!"

Her arms rested back at her sides when her expressive hand movements were finished. She breathed deeply, looking somewhere past the boy standing across the way.

He wanted to speak but didn't; he knew had no excuse worthy of introducing right then.

When she seemed to return to reality, her previous state had dissipated into nothing but words holding an underlying implication of being unmotivated, like she was ready to give up.

"Look," she started tiredly. Her eyes were cast on the floor, not even bothering to gauge his reaction. "If it was just a caught up in the moment thing, I understand. I know I said a lot last night, all at once, and if that swayed your judgement and made you feel like you had to... to kiss me, and you didn't want to, I understand. I'll figure it out, it'll be okay—"

In her peripheral vision, she sensed movement in front of her.

"And if you don't feel the same way about me," she was saying as she looked up, seeing Zach moving towards her with a shocking sense of urgency, something she'd never seen in him flashing in his eyes.

"I'll—" she got out. But then he was right in front of her.

There was no hesitation in the way he cupped his hands around her head, fingers weaving into her hair as he pulled her forward, pushing his lips against hers.

The kiss was full of a sort of emotion she couldn't describe. When they parted, she began breathing again.

She had to compose herself before she could look up at him, still so close. She could tell he wanted to smile, but was holding himself back.

"I didn't know how to deal with everything, but I didn't do it right. And I'm sorry," he said softly.

She managed a nod, mind still spinning. Something was building up within her, and her eyes were watered. After so, so long, she finally knew that he felt the same. Relief bloomed in her heart as she realized every worry and anxiety had just been put to rest.

"How long?" she managed to whisper, and he knew she was asking how long he'd been waiting for that moment, just as she had.

"Weeks," he said. "Months."

A beautiful smile appeared on her face as she leaned forward to rest her forehead on his chest. In response, he wrapped his arms around her shoulder blades in a hug that had a different kind of meaning to it than all the others they'd shared before.