“And there’s also the problem with…me.” “There aren’t any problems with you,” I retort, offended. He breathes a soft laugh, but his face remains stony and closed off. “There is though, Nate. I wasn’t kidding when I told you last year that I don’t like being touched a lot. That hasn’t changed.” “Okay. You might have to explain that to me a little bit more,” I admit. I don’t understand it at all. I’m a tactile guy—I touch, hug, and generally just run my hands all over my friends.
