He unfolds his hands and reaches across the table. I watch in slow motion as they approach my hand, and when they engulf my hand in a quick but tender squeeze, my nerves light up like the flash of my camera. I’m sure he meant for it to be a friendly or reassuring gesture, but my stupid body, which hasn’t been touched in way too long, goes haywire. I wish I could blame the rose martini for being stronger than I thought or even say the peony sugar was really infused with magic . . . or psychedelics, but I can’t. It’s all Jasper. With his eyes focused on me, the feel of his touch still lingering
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