“What is this?” he asks again, his voice a bit gruffer, angrier. “Ben, it’s nothing, I—” He closes the gap, pressing his hips to mine, pressing his belly into my hand pinned between us. “Who did this to you?” he says, his voice louder now in the small space, angry and frustrated. “Ben, you’re scaring me,” I say, a shiver in my voice. With my words, his eyes soften. His grip loosens. He doesn’t move away, though. Instead, he moves closer and uses his free hand to move the little hairs that always fall from my braids around my ear. “No. No, Lola. You never have to be scared of me, sweet girl.
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