I closed my eyes for a moment, desperate to just lean back and relax into him, but I held back. Instead, I dug my nails into the stone, forcing my eyes forward and watching Kai take the other guy to the ground, both of them wrestling like an MMA fight on the concrete floor.
Michael brought the beer up to his lips, and he must’ve lifted his mask, because I heard him take a drink. But then my eyebrows shot up, seeing the bottle appear in front of my chest.
Befuddled, I hesitated only a moment before I took it, keeping my smile to myself as I tipped it up and drank. I held it between my lips, letting the bitter taste sit on my tongue and then swallowing.
When I tried handing back the bottle, he waved me off. I relaxed, taking a few more sips, content that he wasn’t kicking me out. Yet.
“That door leads to the catacombs, right?” I asked, gesturing to the students inside that were heading through the darkened doorway behind the sanctuary.
I held the bottle to my chest, turning my head up to Michael.
He nodded.
I turned back, watching the two guys and girls disappear. “What are they doing down there?”
“Having other kinds of fun.”
I tightened my jaw, frustrated with his brief, cryptic response. I wanted to go inside.
But then I heard him breathe out a small, quiet laugh and felt his mask brush against my ear, his low voice whispering in my ear, “No one knows about you, do they?”
I pinched my eyebrows together, wondering what he meant. He took the bottle out of my hands and set it down on the sill.
“You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you, Rika? Good girl for mommy, good girl for teachers…” He trailed off before continuing, “You’re a good girl on the outside, but no one knows who the hell you are on the inside, do they?”
I clenched my teeth, staring ahead at nothing.
His hot breath fell on my neck as he spoke, “I know what you want to watch, Rika,” he gritted out. “I know you like to watch me. School girls shouldn’t be so naughty.”
My eyes rounded, and I sucked in a breath, pushing out from between his arms and jumping to the ground.
Embarrassment warmed my face as I dashed for the parking lot, but a hand suddenly caught mine, and I was pulled back in the opposite direction.
“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.