I Hope This Doesn’t Find You

by Ann Liang

“Be quiet.” I clamp both my hands over his mouth. “You’re prettier when you don’t talk.”

“Not even if they did this?” he asks quietly, and he leans forward. All at once he’s too close, overwhelmingly close. I’m frozen to the spot as he pauses on purpose, his mouth bare inches from the base of my neck, so I can feel his breath trembling against my skin. “Do you need me to demonstrate further?” A low, hoarse sound escapes my lips. It could be a protest or a plea; I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything. “What was that, Sadie?” he presses, lowering himself by just another fraction of an inch—