Page 85 of Even in the Dark

“Can I do something my mom used to do that helped calm me when I got anxious?”

I can see from my periphery that Scarlett’s watching me, but I don’t turn to look at her. Not sure how I feel about her request. Probably gonna need more details.

“Just… Here, give me your hand.” She reaches over before I can stress about it anymore. Slowly.Consciously. Like I’m a scared rabbit or something, which is even more embarrassing than the intense hovering situation with Phil. She takes myunbandaged hand in both of hers, eyes on my face the whole time.

Can’t help it—my body tenses on instinct. My hand jerks away from hers for a second before I force myself to relinquish control. I still don’t meet her eyes, but let her pull my hand into her lap. She smooths her fingers across my palm, back and forth. My breath hitches. Not because of the weight against my chest, though—because of something else entirely.

Not sure this is a good idea. Definitely not convinced any kind of touching from this girl is gonna help slow my breathing. More likely to speed it right back up to an unsteady gallop.

I’m about to pull away when she starts tracing the pad of her thumb in lazy circles. Slow… really slow. But steady and softly.

I relax my hand into her lap. Close my eyes. Focus on the steady round… and round… and round of her thumb against my skin. Match my breaths to that same rhythm after a while. Slower… Easier. Almost normal. Almost more relaxed than I was before the auditorium and the crowd and the sudden darkness.

“It’s relaxing, right?” she says softly.

I turn my head a bit to the side, my eyes dipping to my hand in hers. Large, tanned, and calloused against delicate, pale, and smooth. She keeps circling her thumb. I keep watching. Feels weird, being touched like this. Totally different from any way I’ve ever been touched before, and it makes every part of my body react in a way that’s just as foreign. Heightened, but not out of fear. It feels good.

Too good. It’s making me react in places that have no business reacting in the atrium of a theater with a crowd of hundreds just a few feet away.

Butfuck…

Holy fuck.I don’t want her to stop.

I look back up at the ceiling. Close my eyes, so the only thing I’m aware of is the feel of her thumb against my palm.

“This okay?” Scarlett asks, her voice almost as soft as her touch against my skin.

I inhale… Exhale… “Yeah.” My voice comes from somewhere lower in my throat than usual. Extra deep after hers. Ragged. Almost a moan. I want to tell her not to stop, but don’t trust myself to say a thing.

She keeps tracing her thumb along the creases of my palm.

I breathe.

Neither of us says a word after that.

“Intermission’s in ten minutes.” A man’s voice startles us both, and the circling stops. I look up. It’s Water Guy.

“Okay, thanks,” Scarlett says, her fingers curling softly around mine. “We’ll get up, then.”

Once Water Guy is back behind the confection counter, Scarlett squeezes my hand lightly. “You up for a little adventure now?”

My eyes meet hers. “Sure.” A few seconds later, we both get to our feet. Scarlett’s hand is still holding mine. I don’t pull away.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dylan

“We’re almost there,” Scarlett says over her shoulder.

“You said that at the last door we went through,” I shoot back.

We’ve walked up so many stairs and down so many hallways, I’d be totally lost if Scarlett wasn’t still holding my hand.

Yeah. I’m holding a girl's hand. Like a normal fucking human being. And I haven’t combusted into a pile of ashes.

“I mean it this time.” She laughs, squeezing my fingers.

I squeeze back. Run my thumb across her knuckles because I’m fascinated with how soft they feel.

---