Looking around, I notice some people have stopped in their tracks, watching on with wide eyes that take greedy gulps of my shame.
My cheeks heat.
“No, I’m—”
“You want to trade a stick for one of my fine, tailored garments?” He chuffs a laugh, and I close my hand around the precious cutting, pulling it close to my chest. “You must be out of your fuckin’ mind.”
All I can do is blink, staked to the stone like a statue.
I just want this moment to end.
He snatches a broom from where it’s leaning against a rack and stalks toward me.
I bolt past nosy onlookers, feeling their sharp stares prick at me like tacks as I slink into the crowd, shoving past a hoard of drunken sailors. I weave past a dancing flutist, dodge a man on a unicycle, and get lost amongst the churning people—chest pounding, eyes stinging.
Pausing, I tuck the precious stem inside my bag, drop my chin to my chest, and breathe through the extra surge of shame flaring up my neck ...
Are you daft?
Hands scrunching into fists so tight my nails punch through the skin on my palms, I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to blink out of existence. Disappear. To dash up Stony Stem and crawl beneath my bed.
How could I be sostupid?
My heart stops as something hard and formidable steps up against my back like a shield—a sturdy, too familiar presence that seems to sayI’m here. It’s okay.
You’re not alone.
A weight settles on the crown of my head and an icy breath blows through my hair, casting prickles on the backs of my eyes …
I almost believe it’s real.
Almost.
Part of me even wishes it was.Thathewas. That I could lean back and crumble into him—tip my head and feel that same chilled breath thread across my face.
Ease my flaming cheeks.
The rest of me is so horrified my imagination would bring him here to taunt me in my most embarrassing moment that I want to scream and shout and spin and bash my fists against his make-believe chest.
A sob threatens to burst from between my clenched teeth.
“Go away,” I whisper.
Plead.
A pair of strong hands settle on my waist, tightening—halting my breath.
My heart leaps so high in my throat I almost choke.
Not real.
All in my head.
I dig into my bag, trembling fingers snatching the snips. “Go away!” I scream, spinning, slashing the empty air, my words belting out across the quelling crowd of blanched faces. Countless pairs of eyes watch me punch and hack and stab at nothing.
Nothing.
All in my head.
