“I leaned back in my chair, my fingers laced behind my head, and wondered at the complexities and contradictions that must have existed in the earth's original clay when God first scooped it up in His palms.”

“In three long strides, Chris was leaning into me, pressing my back up against the building His palms flattened against mine, our fingers interlocking above my head. "Let me uncomplicate things for you." He closed his eyes, leaned his head forward, and pressed his lips against mine.”

“I closed my eyes and leaned back into his body; his fingers kneaded my hips, caressed my stomach. God, it felt good.”

“Since I didn't have a spork handy, I leaned over the sink and scooped up a palmful of cold water and pressed it against my face. There had to be a better option than a violent sporking. There had to be a way to get rid of my dad.”

“His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch.”

“I curl my fingers into my palm to make up for the fact that they're not wrapped around his.”