I handed him the pencil and he took it, but his hands looked so funny holding the pen because he held it tightly, almost like he was holding a weapon.
"No, not like that," I laughed softly.
Without even thinking about it, I reached out and put my hand over his. I gently adjusted his fingers, moving them higher up on the pencil. His skin was so rough yet soft at same time, and his hands were so much larger than mine, but he let me guide him completely.
"You have to hold it loosely," I explained, keeping my hand over his as I guided the pencil to the paper. "If you press too hard, the lines look stiff. You want them to flow. Let's draw a simple rose leaf."
Together, we moved the pencil across the paper. The electric sparks danced between our touching hands but it wasn't an uncomfortable
