Breathe for Me by Rhonda Helms Page B

tasting a bite. After a few minutes I toss the empty bowl into the sink. “Done.”
    â€œYour eagerness is astounding,” he says in an amused tone. “Now, grab my arm and close your eyes.”
    I glance down at my bare arms and legs. “Wait, I can’t go out like this. I need to put more clothes on.” He should know the risks better than anyone, and I’m not going on this outing if it means someone could get hurt.
    â€œNo one’s going to see you where we’re going.” He extends his arm. “Trust me. Grab on. Close your eyes.”
    I grab my cell off the counter and slip it into my pocket, moving forward and taking hold of his sinewy forearm. The muscles bunch up slightly under my hand, and I hear his quick intake of breath. I glance at his face—his eyes are closed, mouth slightly parted. My heart gives an odd flutter as I take in his unusually open expression. Is he…
    Don’t be ridiculous . This is Sitri. He’s the reason I can’t touch or kiss anyone. Someone who cares about me would never curse me like this. And yet, here he is, looking like my touch is affecting him. I don’t remember ever seeing this expression on his face.
    Before I can change my mind, I close my eyes.
    A sick twist hits my stomach as the light goes black around me. I swallow hard, find myself drawing closer to Sitri’s side. Then the disorientation fades. I peek an eye open, step away from him—we’re outside, in some sort of a large, well-groomed garden behind a massive building. The heady caress of early evening’s damp air warms my naked skin instantly, coating me in a thin layer of sweat.
    Not being covered from head to toe feels odd—oddly freeing.
    â€œ Voila ,” he says, waving a hand broadly around him. “The sculpture garden at the New Orleans Museum of Art. I was bored, wandering around the city, and discovered this fascinating little gem.”
    I turn in a slow circle and take in the sights around me. There are sculptures scattered throughout the grounds. My breath catches in my throat from surprise. “This isn’t what I expected.”
    He steps closer, looks down at me with one eyebrow raised. “What did you expect?”
    â€œI don’t know.” I shrug. “Something…” Something inappropriate or offensive. But I can’t seem to make myself finish the sentence. For some reason I don’t want to offend him. “Wait, where is everyone?” I glance at the time on my cell. “It’s almost six.”
    â€œThe place closes at five,” he says quietly. “It’s all ours. And technically we’re invisible, so no one can see or hear us.”
    The cautious wariness gives way to a thread of excitement. I stroll up the nearby path and take in the rich outdoor scents.
    Sitri grabs my hand. “You have to check this one out. It’s crazy.”
    I’m so surprised by the eagerness in his voice that I let him drag me along beside him. He stops right in front of a sculpture of an enormous safety pin. I have to crane my head up to see the top point, which extends well above us.
    â€œUm, that’s fascinating,” I say, eyeing him as he strolls in a large circle around the pin’s perimeter.
    â€œThis piece speaks to me,” he says, rubbing his chin. He steps forward to stroke a hand along the slick metal. “It shows how society’s oppression causes a slow bleed in democracy.”
    â€œReally?”
    He chuckles. “Yeah, sure, why not? Come on, let’s see what else is in here.”
    An answering chuckle slips out of me before I can guard against it. Sitri’s throwing me off-guard with this change. I’ve never seen his face, his persona so relaxed before. Is this a new tactic? Is he trying to loosen me up for some darker reason?
    What does he want from me?
    He must see the change in my attitude because the light dims a bit from his eyes