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One Touch Too Many

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Their friendship is sliding through their fingers. No matter what she tries to do everything seems to be going wrong. The way the kindest of gestures turns round and cuts like a knife in the gut. All they seem to do is hurt each other even when she's quite sure that's the last thing either of them wants. They seem to constantly be clinging tightly to each other with one hand and pushing each other away with the other hand.

He's hurting and she can't turn away from that. How can she hate him for having a head full of her when her head is equally full of him. She remembers the frustration and anger in his voice when he'd spoken of her putting ideas in people's heads, and understands that he is losing this battle now. She opens her arms to him anyway. She can do this much for him, she can give him comfort as a friend, and pretend her heart isn't breaking too. Yet as always he isn't playing by the rules, it isn't just his head on her shoulder, but his mouth tasting and tender along her collarbone and up her neck. He's shaking slightly, though whether from grief, fear or desire, she's no longer sure. She's always wondered what would happen if they were both weak at the same time, and here they are, she closes her eyes and lets herself drown in the sensations.

Reality has to intrude though, she can feel the way his mouth is moving up her neck that he will kiss her soon. The certainty is cold and sudden, if they kiss she won't be able to run from this anymore. She knows how this will go, he'll go running back to his church and make his required penitence and then where will she be? She hates his profession more than ever. Using her anger as a shield she forces herself to tell him its wrong, to push him away and leave before he can convince her otherwise.

It takes her long moments alone in the quiet of the pub kitchen for her hands to stop shaking. She takes a deep breath, wraps her anger back around her like armour and firmly puts aside the desolate look in his eyes before she goes back out to face the punters with an almost convincing smile.

One touch will always be one too many, and never ever enough.