He clicks his tongue. “Shit, I’m sorry.” “It’s nothing.” But he won’t take my word for it. He slides the strap off my shoulder, each one of his fingertips a hot brand across my skin. “You’re bleeding.” Someone’s filling the air in this room with electricity. It skates over my face, my neck, my chest, and I don’t know how to turn it off. “I— It’s fine.” “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
