" Do you like me? You know, like me like me?”
I cringe the moment I ask and cover my face with my hands. The smell of blood and trail dirt wafts into my nose. Something sinks inside me. What is it? Oh, I know, any dignity I could possibly have left.
“Can I take that back?” I ask softly from behind my hands.
Nick’s voice is low and warm. “No.”
I peek between my fingers. “No, I can’t take it back or no, you don’t like me?”
His fingers wrap around my fingers and he pulls my hands from my face so he can look at me, I guess, or else so I can look at him.
“No, you can’t take it back. That’s your question,” he says in a voice so deep and warm and full of things that I can’t get mad anymore. This has to be what people mean when they say they “melted.” I feel all wiggly.
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”
I swallow. His eyes are deep and brown and . . . How can a man’s eyes be so ridiculously beautiful and gorgeous, so full of things that I want to know?
“So, what’s your answer?” I whisper, afraid I might still screw it all up.
Those eyes of his widen a little bit.
I hold my breath.
“I like you, Zara,” he says. "

― Carrie Jones , Need (Need, #1)