“Do you want to come out?” She nods. The wide, innocent look in her eyes almost knocks me back to my knees. “You won’t look down?” I fix my eyes on hers. On the color of caramel and Scotch whisky. On the brown lashes that fan out above them, clumped together with tears. “I won’t look down.” I don’t break eye contact as I help her up on shaky legs. As I steady her shoulders while she runs the towel over her naked skin. I don’t break it as I lay out my sweatpants for her to step into, or as I tie them at the waist. I don’t break eye contact, and I don’t want to. I want her trust.
