We sit so close, but it’s like there’s an invisible forcefield between us. Our hands never accidentally bump reaching for the same thing, pointing something out, or handing something off. We never collide when leaning in to look at something, our legs don’t touch when we pull our chairs up to the same desk or table.
It’s probably the same with others, but I only notice with you because the desire to touch you is so strong. I’ve never felt that with anyone else before, so naturally it feels significant. When I’m standing next to you, inhaling the scent of your shampoo? aftershave? the scent of you, it’s hard to keep myself focused – I get so distracted by your presence.
Twice, I’ve used silly pretexts to reach out and awkwardly pat you on the back, just because of the overwhelming urge to touch. But, newsflash, awkward touch is awkward, and I won’t be doing that again.
So, we never touch. We keep that invisible barrier of inches or centimeters or millimeters intact. But at least I get to be near you.