She wanted to thank him but didn’t have the words. So she reached out cautiously and touched his cheek. It was warm and fuzzy, like a peach.
The boy sucked in a breath and flinched, like it hurt. They both stared at each other in shock.
What just happened?
She didn’t hurt him, did she? Then why did he look like he was in pain?
Gulping, the boy stepped forward again, forcing himself within reach of her.
“D—do it again.”
What was he saying? What was she supposed to do?
He grabbed her wrist and put her hand on his cheek, staring at her with wild, wonderous eyes.
She didn’t know what was happening but didn’t want to stop it either. The boy hissed, trembling into her touch. She didn’t know it, but it was the first time he’d felt a loving hand.
Slowly, he leaned into her palm until he rested his entire cheek on it and closed his eyes.
Oh my God, she thought.
I’m touching a boy.
I’m touching a boy, and I don’t want to throw up.
I’m touching a boy, and I don’t want to die.
I’m touching a boy, and it feels even better than picking at my scars.
They stayed like this until her arm began to hurt and her palm began to sweat, but still she didn’t want to let go. She had a feeling he needed her touch more than his next breath. Which was silly. She was a nobody. To him and at all.
“Chelovek,” she choked out.
“Chelovek?” he repeated, frowning.
She nodded. “Chelovek.”
He tucked a stray hair of hers behind her ear, smiling like a weirdo. He was glad it was too dark for her to see him blushing—and surprised he was capable of such bodily function at all. Heat flooded him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was good heat. Not angry heat. The kind that tickled his stomach when his dad gave him a pat on the back. It didn’t happen often, but when it did…his whole world tilted.
He didn’t know what to do with all the tightness in his chest, so he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. Butterflies exploded in his stomach, tickling the back of his throat as they took flight.
The gesture was so soft, so sweet, it made her head swim. No one had ever kissed her before. Not even her twin brother.
Her body had been violated, abused, and used so many times, by so many men, and yet she had never experienced a small, innocent kiss.
The boy stepped back and turned around, his steps heavy as he headed to the door.
No!her mind screamed.Please don’t leave me.
“Niet!” she blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth in shock.
She had never spoken to anyone who wasn’t Tiernan. Not her dad. Not her therapist. No one.
He froze midstride, turning around slowly, blinking at her.
“You no go.” She pointed at him, too desperate to be embarrassed about her broken English. “You stay.”
They studied each other. Neither of them dared breathe. Finally, he pointed at her desk chair with a question in his eyes.
