Gatsby’s fingers grazed my waist. My breath sharpened with the anticipation of his palm landing there. But his hand moved to my back. He patted my shirt with what would have been the casual affection of friends, except that his hand stayed. His fingers spread out, thumb contouring to the lower point of my shoulder blade.
YOU SAID WHAT?!?!?!?! WHERES MY T4T HAPPINESS
