I dislodged my fingers from hers and held my arm out with the inside of my wrist facing up. “I meant you don’t have to give me my underwear back.”
“Mmm. Good girl,” she cooed as I watched her double over the piece of rope and wrap it around my wrist three times before tying it off. She kept the loose ends wadded up in her grip.
If anyone else in the museum had seen this little maneuver, I missed it. My eyes were on her hands and my wrist the entire time. I thought briefly about Ms. O’Keeffe’s paintings and how I probably resembled one of those right about now—all flushed with color, petals open and glistening.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to check my jeans for outward signs though. I just followed Anise wherever she led, floating with my feet just a few inches above the floor. Smitten,
