I reach out without thinking and push on his hard chest, and for a second, time seems to stand still. I have touched him of course, but over the years they had been casual touches to maybe get his attention, or to hold his jacket. This, however, is in a low-lit room at a late hour, and my fingers have never felt before the hard ridges of his muscles, and the springy wiriness of his chest hair. We both stare at each other before I quickly clear my throat and jump to my feet.
