" The ceiling was high, like maybe a thousand feet. Okay, closer to ten, but still…The ladder was a little shaky, especially when Josh started to climb it.
“Uh…what are you doing?” I asked.
“Coming up to show you how to do it.”
And suddenly he was there, his arms coming around me as he put the plate of paint and a brush on the top step of the ladder. Or was it the top of the ladder? Would I really want to stand on the very top of the ladder with nothing to hold on to?
I was obsessing about the ladder and what its various parts were called because that was a lot safer than thinking about the fact that Josh and I were so close. He smelled really good. Not like paint, as I’d expected.
He smelled like a lumberjack, like pine. Woodsy. And even though it was winter, his skin had a brown hue, so I figured in the summer, he spent a lot of time outdoors. He looked the type.
“Are you listening?” he asked.
“Huh?” I sounded breathless. Probably because I was. Having his chest pressed to my back felt so good. I grew warm, kinda dizzy. Maybe it was the height. But I didn’t think so.
“I’ve been showing you how to prepare the brush, how to make sure you don’t have too much paint,” he said.
I nodded. “I got it.”
“You can either dab or swirl,” he said, leaning forward to show me.
Which put him even closer, close enough that it was almost an embrace. So close that my mouth went dry.
“Personally”--he cleared his throat--“I like the swirl.”
He was giving me other pointers, but I was barely listening. All I could think about was the swirl. The type of swirl that might take place if we were kissing. "

― Rachel Hawthorne , Snowed In