Page 24 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“Has he at least slipped you the tongue?” Zahra asked.
“For the first time last night, but only a few flicks.”
“Did you slip him yours back?”
“Uh-huh, but only in response.”
Zahra clicked her tongue. “Next time, you do it first. See how he reacts.”
“Okay,” I said but knew I wouldn’t be brave enough.
“Did he start rounding the bases?”
“His hands never strayed from my back or my face, but he was so sweet and gentle.” I released a soft breath. “He treats me like fine china.”
“And you’re wondering why you feel untouched?”
I smirked. “Good point.”
“Listen, if you want him to be more comfortable touching you, then you need to take the lead, Amy. Show him you’re not a porcelain doll. You’re not fragile, honey bunny.”
My phone beeped in my ear. I glanced down at my screen to see I was receiving another phone call. From Briar.
My stomach aflutter, I held the phone to my ear. “Hey, Zahra, I’m getting a call from him now.”
“Oh! Well, I’ll talk to you later!”
I pushed the call accept button and Zahra dropped away. “Hey, there,” I cooed into my phone, giving flirtation a try—we’d made out the night before, after all. “Care for another trip up to my room? You can dust my teacups.”
“What? What does that mean?”
Gasping, I shot up to a sitting position. Kell meowed, irritated that I’d stopped petting. “Aunt Aylie! I thought someone else was calling—one of my friends.”
“I know who you thought I was, Amy.”
I cringed into my fist.
“Never mind that. Are you dressed?”
“Almost.”
“Finish up. Your sister and I are heading back from the grocery store. Once we put the food away, we’re going to your fitting.”
“My—huh?”
“The fitting I’ve been talking about since you finally deigned to return home from school. For Beltane. You need a dress to wear to the festival.”
I stared at my overstuffed closet. “Can’t I just wear one I already have?”
“No! This will be your first Beltane. It’s your coming of age, Amy. You’ll need a special dress.”
I exhaled. “But Briar—”
“He can make a trip up to your room some other time. We’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Be ready to leave.” Then she hung up.
An hour later, I stood on a pedestal in a downtown Pittsburgh shop called Pavonia’s, pink and bashful beneath a swath of baby-blue silk.
“Whoa,” Vi gasped when I’d emerged from the fitting room—against my better judgment. Lemur-faced, she’d shot up from her seat on a tufted chaise lounge.
