I promised myself I wouldn’t touch her, but one of my hands leaves the counter, and I grab her smaller one, bringing it to my chest—right to the spot she’s been staring at. Where my heart is. I don’t know how to tell her that it beats for her. That every throb she feels under her palm is my heart trying to get closer to her, trying to punch its way out of my chest if necessary to get just a few fucking inches nearer to her.
