Michael had held many people's hands before.
Grace's, who's tiny palm fit within his like a piece of the puzzles she loved to compete.
His mother's, when he was young and small and easily lost in the crowds at the supermarket.
Former girlfriends', who had always been so eager to hold his hand, as if hand holding was the epitome of affection.
He had shaken hands with many people, given his friends high fives and even laced his own fingers together in times of thought.
But never had he touched a hand that was as wondrous to hold as Ari's.
Her hand was warm, but not sweaty like his past girlfriends' had been. It was soft, but slightly calloused, not as unblemished and flawless as Grace's five year old palm had been. And it wasn't as tightly gripping and nervous as his mothers had been, but rather gentle and calming.
To avoid their arms bending at awkward angles, their forearms had to cross, and Michael felt tingles shoot outward from the point where Ari's soft skin touched his, like a drop of water on paper towel.
The two held hands the entire drive, and they didn't say a single word to each other. When Ari stopped outside of Michael's house, she continued to stare out the front window for a moment, obviously watching him out of the corner of her eye. She then glanced at Michael for the briefest of seconds before slowly sliding her hand from his grip. His fingers immediately felt freezing cold where Ari had previously touched them.
"Do you...want me to come in?" Ari asked, looking at him but not meeting his eyes.
"No, that's okay," Michael swallowed. "Unless you want to, I mean."
"I should get home," Ari looked back out the window. "Bring Ash back his truck. He's probably been worrying about it since we left."
Michael nodded and pulled his backpack up from where it rested between his ankles.
"Thanks," he gave a forced smile, trying not to dwell in the fact that the tension was so thick in the truck that you would need a grinder to cut it. "you know, for everything."
Ari gave a nod, a "you're welcome" look on her face, and Michael opened the door, stepping out onto the asphalt.
As he walked up the path towards Suzanne's front door, here realized he hadn't touched his phone since before he had left for the carnival two days before. He had completely forgotten to bring it to the cabin. It didn't feel like a terrible thing to have forgotten, though. His phone had been his most prized possession and his best friend for as long as he could remember, and he had always felt slightly guilty about being so attached to it, despite not being able to tear himself away from it for more than a few hours.
Now, as he stepped in the door, he smiled at the fact that he hadn't touched it or even thought about it for forty eight hours.
After saying a brief hello to Suzanne, he scaled the stairs to his bedroom and spied his phone on his bedside table. Vowing only to check if he had any messages, he picked it up and turned it on. According to his home screen, he had thirteen missed calls from his mother, and ten text messages.
He held down the button to power off his phone, smiling, satisfied.
Ooh bad boy.
Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading. I just wanted to thanks each and every person who has read this book, or any of my other books, and I want you guys to know that each and every read means so, so much to me. To think that even one or two other people have read my book makes me so happy, so thank you all so much. If you have any suggestions or concerns, feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you're thinking. You can also comment if you have a book you or a friend has written that you want me to check out, or even if you just want to say hi. I might not answer right away, but I'll for sure get back to you - I don't get very many comments.
Thanks so much again,
Loser_Luke
