Disclaimer: Still don't own any of it.
Over the next few days, Nathan found himself making excuses to touch her skin again. At first he wanted to know if it had just been a fluke. It was nearly as surprising as the first time, because he almost had convinced himself by then that it couldn't have happened. But the brush of her fingertips as she handed him his coffee mug was very real. He hid his reaction better that time, but still spilled a little coffee.
"Ooh, sorry. Give it a minute," she told him. She had taken to testing his coffee temperature, after she had witnessed, not for the first time, his reddened lips after he misjudged it himself. He had never let anyone help him like that before. But Audrey seemed to get away with a lot of things around him that no on else did.
He was amazed that somehow they had never touched each other until now. He shook his head, remembering how they had met, when he snatched her out of the rental car that she had almost driven off a cliff on her first day in Haven. Somehow a formal introduction, and a handshake, had never come into it. And between then and now, touching just wasn't part of the job. They were both professional and private enough not to invade each other's space. She had always tested his coffee while it sat on his desk, he realized. Something had made him pick it up and hand it to her first, today.
The next time it was accidental. Or at least, he told himself it was. They had both reached for the newspaper on his desk at once, and his hand fell across the back of hers. Her skin was ever so soft under his fingertips. She snatched the paper with a ruthless grin and told him to wait his turn. He let his breath out slowly as he retrieved his tingling hand.
After that, he found himself missing touch even more than before. Every passing brush of her hand sent a shiver through his whole body. He didn't know what to think. For a while he tried to be careful, because he thought he was probably turning into a creeper. But Audrey was more easygoing with him now, too. All her talk of their friendship was true.
One day when she held up a hand to high five him he responded instinctively. He was glad she kept walking and missed his shocked expression. He stared at his stinging hand, reveling in the ringing sensation of it.
He wondered for the umpteenth time whether he should have told her as soon as he found out. But it was still too confusing. He didn't want her to think that he was using her for her touch. But isn't that exactly what I'm doing? The thought worried him. He knew he had liked Audrey before. This was just—a new part of it. What did it all mean?
