Cool air hits my back when he moves his arm, and I flinch, scrambling to grab the ripped seam of my dress. Suddenly, even the idea of him seeing my scars, of how broken I’ve been, makes me want to throw up. I grab the seams of my dress, holding them together in a fierce grip. “I can’t.” His head rears back, hurt written in his eyes. “Just…just leave my dress on.” My voice is almost a cry, and I can see his face drain of color.
I-
