His hand was still wrapped around her wrist. “What did you mean? Just now, when you said I wasn’t the one you thought was going to hurt you. You were.” His hand was warm, rough, not gentle exactly, but careful.

“I’m not like other people.”

He laughed at that. “You don’t say.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“It’s facetiousness.”

“So you think I’m weird.” Somehow that stung. Although she had no idea why it would. She was weirder than everyone she knew, tiny as that pool was.

“You’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever met. But weird isn’t the word I’d use.” He said it softly, his eyes dipping to his hand, still on her wrist, as though he couldn’t believe he was still holding her. But he didn’t let go.

“If you say special, I might have to punch you.”

This time his smile was surprised. “Extraordinary.” The fact that he was still holding her added a certain something to how the word fell on her skin. “Extraordinary. That’s the word I’d use.”

“You have no idea how much,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry I tried to touch your scar. It wasn’t because I was being creepy. It was because . . .” How did you tell someone that you were used to feeling things when you touched people or came close to them?

He let her go, but not at once. His fingers loosened first, then slid against her skin. She pressed into it, trying to extend the contact, her own fingers lingering against his as they pulled apart.

“You can touch it.” His voice was soft in a way it hadn’t been until now. “You can touch my scar if you need to.”

She swallowed and reached out. The dip above his lips was delicate, the thin line harder than she’d expected, the smooth surface of his lips softer. Her fingers traced the scar, then his lips. His breath kissed her skin. Brightness shimmered in the air around her. Sparks traveled down her arm, making her light-headed, and that made her knees go suddenly limp.

As she crumpled under her own lightness, he caught her. Strong arms going around her and lifting her up. She’d been carried like this a million times, but she’d never felt it before. It felt floaty, new, different from the many, many times she had lost control of her body because she’d lost control of her mind.

Now here she was, mind fully alert, entirely empty except for the sensation of his arms wrapped around her, pressing into the backs of her knees.

Something between happiness and terror made her squeeze her eyes shut.

“Is there someone I can call?” he said in the gentlest voice. It was also adorably confused, and that made her open her eyes again.

“No one can know you’re here.”