Getting over your first crush seems impossible - especially when he's the star of the world's biggest movie franchise.
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Jess Wheeler is happily single and perfectly content with her simple life in Hemlock Landing, South Carolina, where all she kn...
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"Breathe. Jess, you have to breathe."
I continue to make wheezing sounds as Bay's face swims before me. I must be imagining things, seeing what I want to see. Why would Bay be here, helping me, in the middle of his celebration?
"I—? W-what?" I stutter through trembling lips.
"Don't speak, Jess. You just have to breathe, okay? That's all you have to do." He sinks further into the dirt and holds out his open palm so that it hovers an inch or so away from my chest. "Can you take a deep breath and try to reach my hand?"
I can barely hear him over the pounding in my ears, but I try to do as he asks, desperate for air. My first attempt at a deep breath barely brushes his palm.
"Good," he says softly, moving his palm a little bit farther away. "Again."
While at the moment I have no idea what Bay is trying to do, I find that it's slowly becoming easier to catch my breath as he draws his hand further away and my lungs are forced to expand to meet the distance. Finally, after about five minutes, I feel the rest of my body starting to relax. The anxiety hasn't left entirely, but at least I don't feel like I'm on the verge of passing out. Realizing that the worst is over, Bay lowers his hand and remains kneeling beside me. I notice that dark, sticky mud is now staining his jeans. Still, he doesn't move. Doesn't leave me alone in the dirt.
"Thank you," I mumble, unable to look at him. My face warms with embarrassment as everything hits home all at once. Oh, God. As if I weren't already pathetic enough, it only took three exchanged words with my ex to send me into a full-out spiral. And, of course, who should come to my rescue but Hemlock Landing's golden boy, Bay Connor. Right now, the irony that he's famous for playing a superhero isn't lost on me.
"You don't have to thank me." Bay unfortunately still sounds concerned, even though I'm perfectly happy to go on pretending that the last ten minutes never happened. "Are you able to stand? We need to get you some help."
"Help? No, Bay, I'm fine." Bay quirks a skeptical eyebrow and scans me head-to-toe. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's not buying what I'm selling.
"You're sure?"
"Yes," I insist, climbing to my feet just to prove it. Except the lack of oxygen has weakened me, and I stumble to the side — which definitely doesn't help my case. Before I completely topple over, Bay launches himself to his feet and catches my weight.
I'm nearly knocked breathless again as I'm enveloped by the heat of his arms and the solid press of his chest against my back in a pose that feels too scripted to happen in real life. Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments — brown and electric blue — and I feel something good stir in my chest. Something that I think I might want more of.
But then I look away to the throng of fangirls and the cheerful banners and Vivian, who seems to be scouring the crowd for somebody, and I'm sharply yanked out of the fantasy. Oh, hell no, Jess. Don't even go there. He is not Superman, and you are definitely not Lois Lane.
