Breathe for Me by Rhonda Helms Page B

top.”
    He stares at me for a long moment, and I can almost see the internal debate. Finally, one eyebrow raised, he glances a bare finger across my skin, hissing in surprise as he pulls it away. His jaw drops, and he blinks. “It’s impossibly hot.”
    I give a sad nod as I tug the sleeve back into place. “I’m sorry.” I pause. “You actually saw Sitri at the library the other day, even if you didn’t know who he was at the time.”
    Dominic stands. “I see.” His gaze is hooded. He gets up and moves to the kitchen, turning on the faucet and thrusting his finger under the stream of water.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” I say again, trying to let the urgency of my emotions come through in my voice. “I just…I can’t tell anyone the truth about me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. That’s why I bundle up, even in the summertime. I want people to be safe.”
    He shuts off the water, shakes the excess from his hand, then crosses his arms. “Why go to school, then? Why not just stay hidden away? That doesn’t make sense if all of this is true.”
    â€œBecause I want to be around people. As long as I keep covered, no one will get hurt. And I don’t kiss anyone or get kissed, so there’s no danger there. I—” Tears sting the backs of my eyes again, steal my words. I swallow once, twice, and press the heels of my hands to my eyes. “I get so lonely by myself, and I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I just needed to…I needed to…”
    And then he’s in front of me, stroking my sleeved upper arms. “Don’t cry. This is just…this is a little bit much to swallow at once. How do I know you’re not just crazy about the…demon stuff? Or a pathological liar? Or that you have some kind of weird, rare disease that makes your skin feel like a furnace?”
    I stare into his eyes, blinking away my tears. “You don’t. Not for sure. The only thing you can do is trust my words.” I stop for a moment, realizing the enormity of what I’m asking. “But if you can’t,” I rush to continue, “it’s totally understandable. I’m not sure I would, if I were in your shoes.”
    His eyes are wide, no longer hooded from me. He stares into mine for what feels like an eternity. Then, he nods. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I believe, but I see that you believe it’s true.”
    Not full acceptance, but not a total rejection either. “That’s perfectly understandable.” The next words trip off my tongue. “And now that you know, I have to ask you to—”
    â€œDon’t worry, I promise not to tell anyone at school. Not that they’d believe me anyway, but your…secret is safe with me.”
    It’s a start, an assurance. It’s more than I’d hoped for, and I cling to it. “Thank you for not outright rejecting me.”
    He slips his hands down the lengths of my arms to my covered wrists and squeezes. “I can’t promise that I understand or that I believe. But I’m here to help you.” He bites his lip. “How much time do you have left?”
    â€œI still have a little bit of time.” My voice is just a whisper, the words tearing at my throat. I can’t tell him that Sitri’s hinting the end is near. I can’t risk pushing him away, as selfish as it seems. So I leave my answer vague, hopeful.
    He grips my wrists tighter. “I don’t want you to go.”
    â€œMe neither,” I say. I want to tell him I’m trying to find a way to stay, but it would be terrible for me to get his hopes up if I can’t figure out a solution.
    I press my cheek against his chest, and he envelops me in his arms, careful not to touch my bare skin. We stand like this for a long time, the lengths of our bodies brushing each other, sharing the rises and falls of our chests.

    At school the