Before I know it, he’s really close to me. Our bodies so close they are touching. He moves his hand from my wrist, so now our palms are together, fingers interlaced. Fox’s other hand is against the small of my back. My cheek rests against his chest. I hold my breath.
It’s awkward at first, but as I relax into his body and allow him to move us, I can see the private dance for what it is. An exchange. I breathe in and feel his chest rise against mine. He’s giving me a little bit of his calm. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or if I’m making it all up because I’ve spent too much time talking to Val about his new-aged hippie ideas on energy, but for some reason, it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that I’m pressed against him in this little basement where no one can see us, and he’s holding me like I’ve never let anyone do before.
Based in the American Midwest, N.K. Smith is a Technical Writer for a Fortune 100 company. The author of the Old Wounds Series, Ghosts of Our Pasts, and My Only, she is a mother of two who finds the time to write very early in the morning when the rest of the world is still fast asleep.
An avid lover of history, art, music, books, and people, she is interested in telling stories that speak to the human condition.