Addicted to Your Touch

After my grandma died, I developed Skin Hunger—I need hugs to survive. Childhood friend Ethan promised to help, but called me clingy and ditched me mid-episode: “Find anyone.” I turned to my cold desk mate Noah—every girl on campus chased him, he ignored them all. But when I begged with teary eyes, he caved. Twenty-minute hugs for tutoring. He let me cling, ears burning red. Later Ethan cornered me: “Why haven't you come to me?” I held Noah's hand: “I have a boyfriend now. Why would I?”