He sneaks a sideways glance at her, a smile curling at his lips as he spots the look of deep concentration plastered on her face. Her brow is knotted, lips pouted, chocolate eyes narrowed and scrutinizing the board of lettered squares before them.

‘I can’t think with you staring at me,’ she teases.

His eyes snap forward and he apologizes clumsily, wondering if her husband – sitting across from them both – noticed too. But she laughs, oblivious to his unease, and lines up her letters on the game board.

He starts to shift sideways, to put some space between them, when his knee collides with hers under the table. It’s a gentle bump, and his jeans form a barrier between her skin and his – but even still, he jumps, as though shocked by volt of electricity.

His sudden movement sends the little plastic squares scattering across the table and falling from the letter racks. He swears out loud and apologizes again, as Josh chortles and goes to uncork another bottle of wine.

‘Up for another round?’ Sarah asks, as she and Went begin to clean up the mess of a disastrous game of Scrabble.

They lean forward, simultaneously reaching for the same cluster of letters, and his fingers delicately brush against the warm skin of her hand. 

He pulls away awkwardly, but she's oblivious to his touch as she casually continues to clean up the letters.

And he’s not sure if he should feel thankful or disappointed.