Accidental touch
1643 Words
The following weekend brought the annual Harper family barbecue.
It was one of those traditions that refused to die, even though the family had shrunk over the years. Mom insisted on it every October rain or shine because “autumn is for gathering,” and no one had the heart to argue with her anymore. The guest list was small: Mom, Aunt Clara (who always brought her famous potato salad and unsolicited opinions), a couple of distant cousins who showed up mostly for the free food, Sophia, James, and Emily.
Emily arrived early, arms full of grocery bags extra charcoal, more ice, the bottle of bourbon Mom pretended not to like but always finished. The backyard of the old family house was already alive with the smell of smoke and marinated meat. Mom stood at the grill in her favorite floral apron, poking at ribs like they owed her money.
“Emily, honey! Put those bags on the picnic table. And tell your sister to stop texting at a family event.”
Emily smiled. “She’s not here yet.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Of course she isn’t. Probably stuck in traffic because she insisted on driving separately from James. That girl will work herself into an early grave.”
Emily set the bags down and kissed Mom’s cheek. “She’ll be here. She promised.”
Aunt Clara appeared from the side gate, carrying her enormous Tupperware like a trophy. “Where’s the handsome husband? I need someone strong to carry my folding chairs.”
As if summoned, James walked through the gate a moment later, balancing two folding chairs under one arm and a cooler in the other hand. He wore dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that hugged his frame just enough to remind Emily why she’d spent the last week trying not to think about him.
“Hey, Mrs. Harper,” he called, setting everything down and pulling Mom into a quick hug. “Smells amazing already.”
“You’re late,” Mom scolded, but her smile betrayed her.
“Traffic. Sophia’s right behind me she stopped for more ice.”
Aunt Clara sized him up. “Still too good-looking for my niece. How do you put up with her?”
James laughed. “She keeps me humble.”
Emily stayed by the table, arranging napkins and plastic cups, pretending to be busy. But she felt him notice her. A quick glance. A small tilt of his head. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else would catch.
Then Sophia burst through the gate like a whirlwind sunglasses on, phone in hand, already apologizing.
“Sorry, sorry! Client emergency. Fixed now. Mom, those ribs look incredible.”
Mom waved her off. “Go hug your sister. She’s been here doing all the work while you play corporate savior.”
Sophia laughed and pulled Emily into a tight squeeze. “Missed you. You’ve been ghosting me.”
“I’ve been working,” Emily said. “Same as you.”
Sophia studied her face for a second. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve got that look like you’re carrying the world again.”
Emily forced a smile. “Just tired. Let’s eat before Mom starts lecturing about vitamin D.”
The afternoon unfolded in the familiar rhythm of family gatherings. Ribs came off the grill. Potato salad was passed around. Stories were retold for the hundredth time. Aunt Clara complained about her neighbors. Mom reminisced about Dad. Cousins argued over football stats.
Emily floated through it all on autopilot smiling, nodding, refilling drinks. She kept her distance from James without making it obvious. Sat on the opposite side of the picnic table. Helped Mom in the kitchen when he came inside for more beer. Laughed at his jokes but never met his eyes for too long.
It worked. Mostly.
Until the cornhole game started.
Someone probably one of the cousins dragged out the wooden boards from the garage. Teams formed quickly. Mom and Aunt Clara versus the cousins. Sophia declared she and James were unbeatable. That left Emily to pair with one of the quieter cousins, but he got pulled away to help flip burgers.
Sophia waved her over. “Come on, Em. You and me against these two. We’ll crush them.”
Emily hesitated.
James raised an eyebrow. “Scared of losing?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve beaten you both before.”
Sophia clapped. “That’s my girl.”
They set up on the grass. Sophia went first her toss was perfect, landing inches from the hole. She whooped and high-fived Emily.
“Your turn, little sis.”
Emily stepped up, beanbag in hand. She focused on the board, ignoring the way James watched her from the other side. She tossed. It slid right in.
Sophia cheered. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
James picked up his bag, lined up his shot. “Nice one, Em.”
He threw. It landed on the edge, teetering.
Sophia groaned. “You’re rusty, babe.”
James shrugged. “Blame the wind.”
They played two rounds. The score stayed close. Laughter echoed across the yard. Mom watched from the patio with a proud smile.
In the third round, Sophia and Emily were ahead by three points. One more good toss and they’d win.
Sophia went firstbher bag bounced off the board.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “Your turn, Em. Finish them.”
Emily stepped forward. James stood opposite, arms crossed, small smile playing on his lips.
She tossed.
The bag hit the board and slid straight toward the hole.
But James stepped forward at the same moment to retrieve a stray bag from the previous round. Their paths crossed.
Her arm brushed his chest as she followed through.
Not a brush a collision. Soft fabric against soft fabric. Warmth against warmth.
Time stuttered.
Emily felt the contact everywhere electric, immediate, undeniable. Her fingers grazed his sleeve. His hand instinctively reached out to steady her, palm flat against her elbow for half a second.
They both froze.
Sophia was already celebrating. “Yes! That’s game!”
But Emily couldn’t move.
Neither could James.
His fingers lingered on her elbow just a breath longer than necessary before he pulled away.
“Sorry,” he murmured. So quiet only she could hear.
Emily swallowed. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t.
The spark traveled up her arm, down her spine, settled low in her stomach. Her skin felt too tight. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She stepped back quickly, turning toward Sophia.
“We won,” she said, voice higher than normal.
Sophia threw an arm around her shoulders. “Damn right we did. You’re my secret weapon.”
James cleared his throat. “Good game.”
He bent to pick up the boards, movements deliberate, avoiding her gaze.
The rest of the afternoon blurred.
Emily helped Mom clean up. Carried plates inside. Washed dishes. Kept her hands busy so no one would notice they were shaking.
James stayed outside mostly talking to the cousins, helping Mom stack chairs. But every time their eyes met across the yard, the air thickened.
When the sun dipped low and people started leaving, Sophia found her in the kitchen.
“Hey, we’re heading out soon. James has an early meeting tomorrow. You coming with us or staying longer?”
Emily dried her hands on a towel. “I’ll stay and help Mom finish up.”
Sophia hugged her. “Okay. Text me when you get home?”
“Promise.”
Sophia left.
A few minutes later, James appeared in the doorway.
Emily was alone.
He leaned against the frame. “Need help with anything?”
She shook her head. “Mom’s got it covered.”
He nodded. Looked down at his shoes. Looked back up.
“That… earlier,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to”
“I know.”
“It just happened.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Then, softer: “I felt it too.”
Emily’s breath caught.
She met his eyes. “James…”
“I’m trying,” he said. “To be good. To be right. But every time I’m near you”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
She stepped closer only one step. Close enough to smell cedar and soap. Close enough to see the conflict in his eyes.
“I’m trying too,” she whispered. “But it’s getting harder.”
He exhaled roughly. “What do we do?”
“I don’t know.”
They stood there kitchen light soft, dishes dripping in the sink, voices distant in the backyard.
His hand lifted slow, hesitant until his fingertips brushed her wrist. Not grabbing. Just touching. Barely.
Emily didn’t pull away.
The contact was feather-light. Innocent on the surface.
But it burned.
She felt every ridge of his fingerprint against her pulse point. Felt her own heartbeat answer his.
They stayed like that for three breaths.
Then Mom’s voice called from outside: “James? Sophia’s waiting in the car!”
He dropped his hand.
Emily stepped back.
“I should go,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He turned to leave.
At the doorway he paused.
“Emily?”
She looked up.
“If this keeps happening… we’re going to have to talk about it. Really talk.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He gave her one last look long, searching, full of everything they weren’t saying.
Then he was gone.
Emily stood alone in the kitchen, wrist still tingling where he’d touched her.
She pressed her palm to it, as if she could trap the feeling.
But it was already spreading.
Deeper.
Wider.
Unstoppable.
Outside, car doors closed. Engines started. Voices faded.
Emily leaned against the counter and closed her eyes.
The accidental touch had been anything but accidental.
And they both knew it.
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