" Mo drives to his house. We both get out and meet around front of the truck’s bug-smeared grille. He hesitates, then hugs me.

“You suck at hugging,” I say into his chest. He really does. It’s a cage of bony arms and clavicle-to-my-forehead every time.

“I know.”

He drops one arm and stands with the other around my shoulder for a minute or two, and it’s odd because as close as we are, and as much as he feels like the other half of me, we don’t touch all that often. Tonight it feels right, though, if slightly like trying to snuggle with a tree. "

― Jessica Martinez , The Vow