Page 8 of The Luminosity of Loriana Harper

“I like yours too.”

He pinkened. “I have several superhero ones. I like to rotate.”

“Well, they are different. And I like different.” She was quick to add that, lest he think she was making fun of him.

His disarming grin assured her he didn’t interpret her comment as anything other than a compliment. “May I touch your arm?”

A question she’d never thought to hear. “Yes.” She almost addedplease. Something about this young man disarmed her. She was fighting a losing battle to keep her defenses up.

He scooted closer and ran his hand up and down her arm with long gentle strokes.

Part of her was tempted to look around to see what everyone else was doing, but she didn’t want to take her focus away from him. He’d so generously offered, and his touch soothed.

“Would you like a neck massage? You seem tense, which is totally understandable. Or we could lie down. Or I can just keep this up.”

All sounded like great options. This time she looked up and caught Mitch in her peripheral vision. He sat across from an older woman, and although they were engaged in what appeared to be a very intense discussion, they weren’t touching.

Pay attention.

“Uh, lying down sounds nice.”

He grinned again. A perpetual and sunny disposition. “Do you prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Another question she’d never thought to be asked. She’d assumed she’d be the little spoon, but something in the hitch of his voice had her rethinking that. Plus, it’d give her some element of control. And, finally, she’d never been the big spoon in her life. Few were the times she’d been the little spoon as well, but she wouldn’t focus on that now. “Big, please.”

He clapped his hands together softly and rubbed them as if in glee. He pointed to one of the beds and she followed him, crawling on her hands and knees. He positioned himself on the edge facing away from the group. Part of Loriana was disappointed because she wanted to see what was going on—especially with Mitch—but in this position she’d be focused on Geoff, and wasn’t that the point?

Gently she eased in behind him. Although the temperature in the room was quite warm, she shivered.

“We can use a blanket if you want. I didn’t want to suggest it because you might not be comfortable, but it’s definitely more fun.”

And obviously warmer. She snagged a comforter and drew it over them. She lay her head on the pillow and placed her hand tentatively on Geoff’s arm.

“I like that. You can do more if you like or just keep doing that. Anything you’re comfortable with.”

You can do this. It’s why you came.

She wriggled closer so their bodies were aligned. Geoff was about her height so they fit well together. She tentatively moved her arm under his and placed her hand against his sternum. He gently rested his hand on top of hers, offering unspoken assurance he was happy with what she was doing.

“So, uh, do we talk?” She giggled. Actually giggled. After a moment, she sensed his smile.

“We can do whatever you like. I’m good with twenty questions, a discussion of geopolitics, or just laying here and soaking up some of your positive energy.” He sighed. “From the moment I saw you, I just knew you’d be good at this.”

“Not sure how to interpret that comment.”

“As a compliment. Everyone has a unique aura and gives off a different vibe. Yours is one of the most positive I’ve sensed in this group—and that’s saying something.” He stroked her knuckles. “Now, the guy next to you? Kind of closed off. I suspect he’s also new, and although this is a safe space, it can also be intimidating. Especially if you’re not used to touch. I grew up in a household with plenty. I moved down here from Chetwynd to go to school, and I never went back, but I miss the hugs I used to get from my family.”

“What did you study?” Innocuous, right?

He chuckled. “Sociology with a minor in mathematics. My mother gently suggested it was a complete waste of time, but I work for Statistics Canada, and I have to say I love my job. I help construct surveys and find the results endlessly fascinating.” Another chuckle. “Here I am, rambling on about my job. What do you do?”

“I’m a librarian.”

“You must have stories.”

She did and embarked on telling some of the funnier ones without revealing any identities.

Chapter four

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