“Dare?”
Her voice is soft, and my head snaps up.
Calla lingers in the bathroom door, a curious look on her face.
“Calla.”
Relief floods through my every pore, my every cell.
She’s not gone.
“You’re here,” I whisper.
She cocks her head. “Yes. Where else would I be? The real question is… why are you here?’
In her room.
I can’t answer that without sounding crazy.
“I missed you,” I tell her truthfully.
She smiles.
“You did?”
“Always.”
“You can’t miss me always,” she reasons. “You don’t know me well enough.”
“I do, too,” I argue and she sits beside me.
“Are we doing this again?” she asks, rolling her eyes.
“No. I know that I know you. It’s enough.”
She shakes her head, but she grabs my hand, and leans her head on my shoulder.
“Maybe we knew each other in another life,” she suggests.
“Maybe.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she decides. “I know you now. That’s enough.”
“True.”
Her hand is on my thigh. Her fingers twitch and she wants to move it, she wants to touch me, but she’s afraid.
“Do it,” I suggest.
She glances up at me.
“Do what?”
“Touch me. Wherever you want.”
“I don’t want us to get out of control,” she whispers. “Not yet.”
I smile. “Trust me. I’ll be a statue. You can do anything you want. I won’t move.”