Jon's eyes snapped open, his body rigid as if encased in ice. His breath caught in his throat, and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn't move, not a finger, not a muscle.
Panic clawed at the edges of his mind and there were two reasons for his paralysis, and the first hit him like a punch to the gut.
He remembered what had happened before he collapsed. 'Shit,' he cursed under his breath, the word a sharp exhale in the stillness.
'Maybe it's for the best. After this, she'll stop… feeling whatever she feels for me.' His mind nodded to itself, a grim acknowledgment of the distance he needed to keep. But his head couldn't help but think, 'Do they usually feel like that,' it was softer than pillow.
He shook of the thoughts as his gaze darted around, the second reason for his immobility became clear: his body wasn't responding.
