“You watched me the whole time?” “Yes.” “Why?” I asked. Oh, my God. The initial creak in the floorboards I heard upstairs before, too. That was him. He was here the whole time. The idea of his eyes on me. Being in the room, lurking in a corner and watching me . . . toying with me. Why would he just hang out and watch? “Because it was pretty,” he finally said. Pretty? “You asked me why you?” he said, holding me to him, my back pressed into his chest. “That’s why. You’re pure.”
