Holding Hands With Someone
Chris slouched on the worn corduroy couch in his family's small apartment, idly shuffling a deck of cards while the flickering light of the TV illuminated the dim living room. His best friend Greg sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the couch and absently flipping through channels.
"Man, there's nothing good on," Greg complained, tossing the remote aside.
Chris shrugged. "Wanna play gin rummy again?"
"Nah, you always beat me," Greg replied. He twisted around to face Chris. "Let's just talk. We never really get to hang out like this, just the two of us."
"Yeah, true," Chris agreed. He set the cards down on the coffee table. "What do you wanna talk about?"
Greg grinned mischievously. "Girls."
Chris rolled his eyes. "What about 'em?"
"I dunno. Like... have you ever kissed one?" Greg asked, eyebrows raised suggestively.
Chris scoffed. "Come on man, you know I haven't."
"Yeah, me neither," Greg admitted with a sheepish smile.
"For real? I thought maybe you and Jenna..." Chris trailed off.
Greg shook his head emphatically. "No way. I mean, I like her and all, but I've never even been on a real date."
"Join the club," Chris muttered.
They sat in silence for a moment, the laugh track from some sitcom providing awkward background noise.
"So you've never kissed a girl, been on a date, nothing?" Greg asked quietly.
"Nope. Unless you count that time in second grade when Tasha Williams dared me to kiss her during recess. But that was just a quick peck," Chris said.
Greg chuckled. "That definitely doesn't count. Man, we're pathetic."
"Speak for yourself," Chris retorted, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Greg was right.
"Have you at least held hands with a girl?" Greg asked.
Chris shook his head. "Unless you count my mom or my little sister, no."
Greg's eyes widened. "Seriously? Not even like, walking with a girl or something?"
"Nope. I mean, when would I have the chance? I'm always working or doing chores or homework," Chris said defensively.
"I guess that's true," Greg conceded. He was quiet for a moment, then asked hesitantly, "Do you ever wonder what it's like?"
"What what's like?"
"You know, holding hands with someone. In a romantic way," Greg clarified, not quite meeting Chris's eyes.
Chris shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I dunno. I guess maybe sometimes."
Greg took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "We could try it. You know, just to see what it's like."
Chris blinked in surprise. "What, like, hold hands? With each other?"
Greg nodded, his face flushing slightly. "Yeah. I mean, if you want to. Just as friends, obviously. To practice or whatever."
Chris felt his own cheeks grow warm. Part of him wanted to laugh it off, make a joke and change the subject. But another part of him was genuinely curious. And it's not like anyone else would ever know…
"Okay," he heard himself say. "Yeah, I guess we could try it."
Greg's eyebrows shot up, like he hadn't actually expected Chris to agree. "Oh. Okay, cool."
They sat there awkwardly for a moment, neither making a move.
"So, uh, how should we...?" Chris trailed off.
Greg scooted closer to the couch. "I guess just... here."
He tentatively reached out and took Chris's hand in his own. Chris tensed reflexively at the contact, but forced himself to relax. Greg's palm was warm and slightly sweaty against his.
"This is weird," Chris muttered.
"Yeah," Greg agreed. But he didn't let go.
They sat like that for a minute or two, hands clasped loosely. Chris was hyper-aware of every point of contact between their palms, the slight roughness of Greg's skin, the faint pulse he could feel in his friend's wrist.
Slowly, almost unconsciously, Chris found his fingers interlacing with Greg's. Greg's breath hitched slightly, but he didn't pull away.
Chris was surprised to find that it actually felt... nice. Comforting, in a way. He'd always imagined holding hands would be awkward and uncomfortable, but this was oddly soothing. He found himself relaxing, some of the ever-present tension leaving his shoulders.
After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Greg gently disentangled their fingers. Chris felt an unexpected pang of loss at the absence of contact.
They both cleared their throats, avoiding eye contact.
"So, uh, that was..." Greg started.
"Yeah," Chris agreed, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Cool," Greg said lamely. "Thanks for, you know, letting me try that."
"No problem," Chris replied, striving for a casual tone. "It was... interesting."
Greg nodded. "Yeah, interesting. Good practice, I guess."
"Definitely," Chris said quickly. "For when we actually get to hold hands with girls and stuff."
"Right, exactly," Greg agreed.
They lapsed into silence again, the sitcom laugh track seeming even more jarring now.
Chris picked up the deck of cards again, shuffling them perhaps a bit more aggressively than necessary. "So, gin rummy?"
"Sure," Greg said, sounding relieved at the change of subject. He moved back to his spot on the floor as Chris dealt the cards.
They played in silence for a while, focusing intently on their hands. Chris found his mind wandering, replaying the feeling of Greg's hand in his. He wondered if it would feel different holding a girl's hand. Softer maybe? Or would it be basically the same?
He snuck a glance at Greg and found his friend already looking at him. They both quickly averted their eyes, Greg's ears turning pink.
Chris cleared his throat. "So, uh, you think the Knicks have a shot at the playoffs this year?"
Greg latched onto the new topic eagerly. "Man, I hope so. But their defense has been awful lately..."
They fell into an easy discussion of basketball stats and predictions, the awkwardness gradually fading. By the time Greg had to head home, things felt mostly back to normal between them.
As Chris walked Greg to the door, he felt an irrational urge to reach out and take his friend's hand again. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead.
"Thanks for hanging out," he said. "This was... fun."
Greg nodded. "Yeah, it was. We should do it again sometime. You know, just hang out, the two of us."
"Definitely," Chris agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly.
They stood there for a moment, an odd tension in the air.
"Well, see you at school," Greg finally said.
"Yeah, see you," Chris replied.
He watched Greg walk down the hallway, fighting the urge to call him back. When his friend disappeared around the corner, Chris closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath.
What just happened? And why did he kind of want it to happen again?
Shaking his head to clear it, Chris returned to the living room. He gathered up the cards, turned off the TV, and headed to his room. As he got ready for bed, he found himself absently running his thumb over his palm, remembering the warmth of Greg's hand in his.
It was just practice, he told himself firmly. For girls. That's all it was.
But as he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with the feeling of interlaced fingers and the memory of Greg's shy smile.