He looks away from them and back to me. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, hands gripping his biceps. I can practically see the way he’s holding himself back from reaching for me. Lawson is a tactile guy, always touching others and tossing affection around like confetti. He never touches me unless I initiate it, though. Just another way he’s somehow read me correctly, without me having to tell him I don’t like being handled. I bump him lightly with my elbow and he grins, happy with the scraps I’m able to give him.
