Quietly, we bounded up the staircase. Our bare feet padded on the glossy floor, which caused a small echo to sound around us. Her grip on my hand tightened slightly and the movement captured my attention.
I realized that her palm felt soft. Almost as if a rose petal was touching me. Her fingers curled around mine as if she didn't want to let go. Her touch was pleasant. I think the last time I held someone else's hand was back in high school.
I can't remember what he looked like or his name. But I can remember him holding my hand. His fingers were hard and slightly sweaty. I can recall feeling uncomfortable. I made up some excuse to not hold his hand and, needless to say, that we didn't last much longer after that. I never considered myself touchy Feely. But whenever Ella touches me,
