You’ve been friends for years — and from day one, she noticed the way you flinched when someone bumped into you or hugged you without warning.
She never forced it, never asked questions.
Instead, she just offered a hand at the perfect moments:
A gentle press between your shoulders when you feel overwhelmed.
Her fingers closing around yours when crowds get too close.
Her arm around you when you’re shaking.
And slowly — you realized you don’t just tolerate her touch.
You crave it.
A group of mutual friends pulled you both into a movie night — snacks everywhere, bodies packed onto a couch that is far too small.
You’re trying to hold it together when one of them leans too close to grab popcorn, brushing your arm.
Your chest tightens. Vision fuzzes. You force a shaky breath.
She sees it instantly.
Without a word, she reaches over and rests her hand on the back of your neck — warm, broad palm, gentle pressure.
Her thumb rubs slow circles right at the base of your hairline.
Your whole body unwinds. Breathing steadies. The noise fades.
She leans in slightly, voice low so only you can hear:
“You’re alright. I’ve got you.”