He is not big on public displays of affection, he says. Outside in the real world we have never held hands, we do not kiss, we walk side by side laughing, our bodies close together. I do not greet him with a kiss as I slide into the car. He smiles his boyish grin and steals glances, I sometimes reach over and touch his cheek, run my fingers along his bearded jaw.

Sat beside him at dinner, he rests the palm of his hand on my rib briefly, makes the odd gesture to touch me in some way.
When we are alone, our legs entwined, he wraps his arms around me, his fingers closing around mine. I can feel his heartbeat, his breath on my neck.

Last night, he teases me and I steal a kiss in a crowded bar. When we leave, the February night on our cheeks, my hand finds his and he does not let go. I am tired, and just a little drunk. He is not coming in, he tells me as he drops me at my door and kisses me good night. I understand his fatigue, it mirrors mine. We have always respected each others' boundaries, yet tonight I am feeling small. My heart is big in my chest, the strain of the last 2 weeks laying emotions heavy. Sometimes my timing and my questioning are not well thought through.

His hands rest on the steering wheel. 10 and 2 o'clock. He is honest, brutally and direct. I concentrate on a pink scar on his thumb. I know the words before they come out of his mouth, and realize that the man I have wanted is more the man I know he can become, and less the man in front of me. And I realize just how far I have come, as I shut the door behind me and walk away.

Amelia says if you don't risk, you can't win. Life is about going out on a limb, climbing higher and sometimes falling down. Maybe I'm ready to start falling out of trees again.