The rumors were that you were just like him. Lars’ large, warm hand picked at the splitting wood of the church pues. He blinked as his gaze rested comfortably on you. You had just moved to town with your parents.

He quickly moved his eyes away though, as to not stare too long. After all it didn’t look like there was anything wrong with you. In fact, you looked quite normal, very attractive by the small community’s standards.

The pastor continued to open up and greet the church, get them ready for singing. Lars’ blue eyed gaze went to the hymn book that was supposed to be slotted in front of your seat, it wasn’t there. That happened often, the books were always misplaced. He usually shared with Karin when things like that happened. But he wasn’t sitting next to Karin, he was sitting next to you.

But what if you really wanted to sing…and he didn’t offer you a book so you couldn’t. That was a tragedy in his eyes.

Lars wanted to offer to share his book, or maybe just let you have it for yourself. He knew all the songs fairly well by heart anyway. He was far too nervous though. Your head was turned to one of the windows, watching the rhythmic snowfall outside. The thought of maybe tapping your shoulder crossed his mind, but that surely wouldn’t do for two major reasons.

1. Lars wasn’t sure he wanted to touch you.
2. The rumor going throughout the church was that you did not like touch either. A very harsh and sensitive case of No physical contact.

The thought occurred to Lars that maybe he would accidentally bump into you, though unlikely, he didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable or disturbing the peace. He put his wool gloves back on.

Eventually after a few more moments of mental turmoil, Lars spoke as the music got ready to start. “We-we can share,” He stood along with the rest of the church as the choir started their harmony. He gently held the hymn book in your direction with unsteady hands, his gaze strictly on the page, cheeks flushed a deep peach.