“Michael,” I gasped, my throat thick with fear. “Let me go.”

He stepped closer. “How do you know I’m Michael?”

I blinked, dropping my head, unable to look at him. My eyes fell on his hand holding mine. My skin burned so hot, I wasn’t sure if I was on fire or freezing.

I swallowed the tightness in my throat. “It feels like you.”

But he leaned in, making my violent heart pound even harder, and whispered, “You don’t know what I feel like.”

Then he reached up and grabbed my school necktie, yanking my body in as he pulled the tie roughly, loosening it, and slipping it over my head.

“What are you doing?” I breathed out.

But he didn’t answer.

I narrowed my eyes, watching him as he pulled the tie apart and walked around behind me, holding it over my eyes.

But I pushed it down, turning to look at him. “Why?”

Why did I need a blindfold?

“Because you’ll see more with your eyes closed,” he answered.

And I stood still as he fastened my tie around my eyes, his fingers touching my hair.

He let go of the tie, but I still felt his chest at my back, and I swayed an inch, feeling my equilibrium shift. I almost wanted to smile, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

“Michael?” I said softly.

But he remained silent.

I breathed faster, feeling overwhelmed with the sensations. The scent of the hemlocks and red maples mixed with the cool sea air and dying leaves rushed me along with the light breeze that chilled my cheeks.

My nipples hardened, and every hair on the back of my neck stood up. What was he doing?

“Michael?” I said more quietly. I was starting to feel dumb.

But he still didn’t say anything.

My heart started pounding, and I clutched the hem of my skirt, fighting the heat between my thighs.

I swallowed, slowly turning around and holding up my hands, finding his chest and placing my palms on him.

“You can’t scare me,” I told him.

I felt his hand take mine and pull it off his chest. “I already do.”

And he walked around me, pulling me after him. I jogged a few steps, coming up to his side and holding onto his arm, trying not to stumble as we waded through the weeds, rocks, and uneven ground.

I tightened my fingers around his hand, the coarse skin of his palms feeling so good. What would his hands feel like on the rest of me?

“There’s stairs,” he warned, cutting off my thoughts. I slowed, stepping up and finding my footing.

“Come on,” he urged, leading me up. After several steps, the sunlight coming through the blindfold faded, and I knew we were inside.

The dank smell of rain and rot from years of neglect surrounded me, and I turned my head, trying to locate the echoes of voices all around. I followed Michael, walking slowly as I figured the floors were filled with debris.

Male shouts and cheers came at me from the left, and I listened, hearing them laughing and cheering. Grunts and groans followed, and I gauged that the fight was still going on.

I followed Michael, still holding onto him, but I raised my other hand, touching the blindfold. I didn’t like not being able to see, not knowing whether or not someone was coming at me. I felt like everyone was staring at me.

“Why won’t you let me see?” I asked, coming to a stop next to him.

“Would that be more exciting for you?”

I twisted my head to him, even though I couldn’t see him. “Is having me blindfolded more exciting for you?”

But then I turned my head forward again, stunned at how flippant I’d sounded. I’d always been nervous around Michael, and I was shocked—and maybe a little proud—that it had come out so easily.

I heard a couple of quick breaths come out of him, and I thought that he had laughed, although I couldn’t tell for sure.

“I want you to do something for me.” He let go of my hand, and I felt him brush against my shoulder as he came to stand behind me. “I want you to keep the blindfold on and don’t take it off. I’ll be back.”

“Be back? What?” I pinched my eyebrows together, feeling chills sweep up my legs and worry knotting my stomach.

I felt him touch the middle of my back, and his breath fell across my temple. “Show me what you’re made of.”

And then he pushed me.

I gasped, stumbling forward, my flats grinding against the dirt and dust-ridden stone floor as my arms shot out, trying to keep me from falling as I breathed quickly.

“Wha—” I choked out. “Michael?” I called, turning my head side to side.

Where the hell was he? I reached up and grabbed the blindfold. Screw this.

But then I stilled, his words playing back at me in my head. Show me what you’re made of.

He was testing me. Or playing with me. I inhaled a deep breath, steeling myself.

I could wait a little longer. You’re okay. You can do this. I wasn’t tapping out yet.

The grunts and growls of the fight were only a few feet away, and I could hear people talking and laughing. I wasn’t sure if it was because of me or the fight, but my face burned anyway, embarrassment making me want to hide. It felt like I had a thousand eyes on me, watching my every move.

My bottom lip trembled, and I held out my arms, my chest rising and falling a mile a minute as I tried to see if anyone was near me. I felt exposed, and I didn’t like it.

I took small steps, touching nothing but air as I felt my way.