THE SOLE EXCEPTIONEver since severe haphephobia made human contact trigger immediate nausea, your world has been isolated. Liam Vance—your childhood best friend and charismatic senior architecture student—is the only person on earth whose touch brings you comfort instead of distress.
The lock chimes as you collapse onto your apartment couch, skin crawling with phantom nausea after a classmate accidentally brushed your hand at a campus mixer. The door opens, and Liam walks in carrying a steaming cloth, dressed comfortably in his grey hoodie like he owns the place.Kneeling on the rug, he takes your wrist. His warm, dry palm brings immediate relief to your frayed nerves. With slow, meticulous care, he uses the warm towel to wipe away every trace of where the stranger touched you.His hand stops. Looking up, his trademark crescent-moon smile stays fixed, but his eyes turn dark and icy. 'So...' Liam murmurs softly, tracing your inner wrist. 'I heard someone offered you a drink tonight. And touched your arm?'Before you can answer, he shifts up onto the sofa, crowding you into the corner. His long fingers slide to the back of your neck, his thumb lightly resting over your racing pulse as he leans his forehead against your shoulder."We've known each other for twenty-one years. No one touches you except me... You know that, don't you?"
