Breathe for Me by Rhonda Helms

have been too horrified to watch such a movie with me—she couldn’t even stand seeing our neighbor’s brothers wrestling around. And when they got cut, she’d fuss over them, clucking her tongue and cleaning up their messy wounds. So motherly and nurturing, even at a young age.
    An image pops into my mind of Dominic and me sitting on a couch together, watching one of those films, digging into a container of noodles and laughing at the buckets of fake blood that result from every flesh wound. I smile.
    â€œWe should do that one night,” he says, and I jump a little, startled that he practically read my mind.
    I nod in response, licking my upper lip nervously.
    We make it back to my building, navigating our way through the courtyard and up to my apartment.
    â€œIs your uncle home?” Dominic asks.
    â€œNo, he’s pretty much always out.” But thinking about my pretend uncle makes me think of Sitri, the reason for all my lies. How could I have forgotten about him? If he sees Dominic here and suspects I have feelings for him, it could mean the end of everything.
    I draw in a shaky breath, keying the door. Stay calm . Nothing is going to happen. Sitri doesn’t usually visit me this time of the day. Besides, this is a good chance for us to do our poetry assignment. Even Sitri couldn’t find anything to fault with that.
    The door swings open, and I gesture inside. “Please, make yourself at home.” I put the book on the end table beside the couch.
    Dominic strolls in, taking an appreciate glance around the room. “This is great. And look at that view.” He walks toward the patio.
    I follow him and reach around to open the door. “That’s my favorite spot. I like to unwind in that chair.”
    He turns toward me, glancing down into my face. He says nothing. His eyes speak volumes. He’s so, so close, I can smell wafts of cologne from his neck. I want to lean in, breathe deeper.
    I swallow, unable to do anything but stare back for a long moment, then force myself to move away. This is dangerous. It’s not just a game. I can’t let myself get caught up in these emotions. “I’ll bring you something to drink,” I finally say, heading toward the kitchen. “You can relax out there.”
    Instead of him moving outside, I hear him right behind me. I try to ignore him for the moment and focus on finding refreshments for us. I pull out two cans of Coke, then shove one into his hand. He gives me a crooked grin and opens the can, but doesn’t speak.
    With a crack of the tab, I open my own can and take a big swig, letting the sweet, cool liquid slide down my throat. I put the soda on the countertop, then dig through my cupboards to find food, opening and closing the doors.
    I can feel his presence behind me and have a hard time concentrating. A swell of panic overtakes me. This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have let Dominic in. I know better than to try a stunt like this. My body tenses, my shoulders clenching tight, and I dig my nails into the underside of the countertop.
    A hand slips softly onto my lower back. I freeze, my spine stiffening even more in response. His thumb kneads a spot on my vertebrae and pushes the fabric of my shirt against my skin. It’s not an intimate caress, but I feel like I’ve been stripped naked by Dominic’s touch.
    I focus all my attention on that hand. That soft heat.
    â€œI promise not to touch your bare skin, but you’re tense,” he says. “I can practically see the knots on your back.”
    â€œYou have no idea,” I reply with an uneasy chuckle. It would be so easy to just fall back against him, to feel his chest pushing against me. I know better than to try that. But I steal a moment of luxury and allow him to touch me. To bring me comfort and ease my stress in the only way he can.
    After a moment, he pulls away. I feel the withdrawal immediately.
    â€œMaybe I’d better