Chapter 56

Fallon

Friends. I think I hated that word. Maybe he did too? I couldn't read him, and I'd always thought I was good at that, reading people, observing, watching. He tensed at the strangest moments, hunched his shoulders in crowds as if he was afraid someone was going to shank him, and he was more comfortable naked than with clothes on.

Four days in, and I wasn't any closer to figuring out Zane Andrews, if anything, he was getting more and more complicated, like a maze that twisted every time you thought you had the way out decided.

"I need food." Zane said a few minutes later, we'd been sitting on the beach holding hands in silence for ten minutes.

I had no idea what it meant.

To me? More than it should.

To him? I was probably just a body, a hand, a small hand that fit in his gruff hands. Calluses from playing guitar rose over his rough palm, they kissed my soft skin, causing a friction that reminded me too much about who he was compared to me.

He was like a shark, claiming he