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someone.
    He groans, rubbing circles at the inner corners of his eyes. “It’s not that easy. This is an old charm, one that doesn’t have a solution.”
    “Ben, seriously, it was a mistake. It’s not like I gave you that pillow freely.”
    “From where I stood, it looked like you did.”
    I huff and cross my arms. This is so wrong. If I could retract the pillow-throwing incident, I would. Wait a second!
    “Can’t you turn back the clock and change this?”
    “I can only pause time in the present, and enter the future. I don’t deal with the past. That’s an entirely different power.” Tossing the pillow onto my bed, he adds, “And even if I could, I don’t know if I’d change anything.” He saunters toward me, gaze never leaving mine. “On second thought, I think this might’ve been the best thing that’s happened to us since you moved here.”
    I back myself against the wall, leaving me nowhere to run. “Ben . . .”
    “Candra.” Pressing his arms against the wall on either side of my head, he leans in so close I can smell him—spicy and woodsy, with a trace of mint. My eyes never leave his, even though they threaten to ogle his full lips and remember how they taste.
    “You know, if you want to kiss me, you should just do it,” he blurts.
    “Excuse me?”
    He taps his head twice. “We can’t hide from each other.”
    Oh, damn.
    “ Oh, damn is right,” he says with a smile. “Now, tell me what I’m thinking.” He snakes one arm around my lower back, and with the other he wraps his fingers around my neck, forcing me to hold his gaze. He’s thinking about kissing me and how this might be a good idea after all . . . and . . . and . . .
    Whack. My hand leaves a mark on his cheek.
    “It’s not going to happen,” I hiss.
    He rubs the red splotch on his face, smiling the entire time. “ Wanna bet?”
    Before I can counter, he overpowers my lips with his, pulling me closer, melding our bodies into one. I push against his chest in an attempt to make him stop, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he yanks me tighter against him. My mind is reeling with so many emotions. I try to stop him, I really do, but the moment he realizes my lips aren’t moving against his is the moment his fingers wrap around my throat again, constricting my airflow.
    “Kiss me,” he murmurs against my lips, nipping at each one until educing a response.
    I shake my head a little, not really able to move it much while in his grasp.
    He squeezes harder, growling through his teeth. “ Kiss me.”
    Opening my mouth to speak is useless. The airflow is slow-coming, and I’m starting to see spots. Oh God. Maybe this is the real him, the merciless version of the Ben I know.
    Let go of me! Everything’s going black.
    Good, he says, jovial. Kiss me and it won’t.
    Stop it! This is crazy!
    Kiss me, he repeats.
    Ben—
    Kiss me.
    Ben!
    Kiss me, Candra.
    So, I do. I don’t hold back, either. I kiss him for the times I wanted to kiss him and couldn’t. I kiss him for saving my life, even though he turned against his family. I kiss him for the hate I feel towards his birth into the Conway family, ruining our destiny.
    As I think about these things, about the way he tastes on my tongue, a slow, aching blaze spreads the entire length of my body, from head to toe. My heart beats hysterically inside me, and I feel the steady pulse of it in other regions. All I can think about is what it’ll feel like to have his body pressed against mine, my legs and arms wrapped around him, his mouth trailing kisses on my bare skin. I can almost smell the sweet sweat; feel the chilled air against my impassioned body, sending quakes of necessity down my spine. I think about our future together, as one. I envision children and happiness and growing old. The truth has always been there, lingering in the dark, waiting to be unleashed: Ben and I, we were meant for each other.
    Do you feel it? he asks, waking me from my daydreams. He releases his claim on