“You’re hugging me,” I said quietly, even as my arm naturally slid down her back and anchored her close to my chest. My person was hugging me, and with every ounce of ruthlessness I could muster, I wrenched aside the thought that it didn’t feel the way a hug from a friend should feel. Inside my head, I tried to slam down a thick metal wall—tall and black and impenetrable—against thoughts like that. Maybe if I built up a big enough barrier, I could pretend they didn’t exist.
