Haphephobia: the fear of being touched.
Blake, a second-year Psychology student, hadn't ever heard of such a phobia, until the day he was hired as a guide for Dean, the heir of a rich family.
Even though Dean had the appearance and behaviour of a ge...
PLEASE READ THIS NOTE: Hi! Sorry for nagging you all, but could you pleeeeeease vote? I know many people forget, but the votes are what boosts the story so more people can find it. This week, for the first time, this novel hasn't ranked in any hashtag and I have to admit I'm kinda sad about it, so if you voted it would mean A LOT to me. (If you have the patience of voting on the previous chapters, I would reeaallyy appreciate it! )
Now, back to the regularly scheduled programming!
Every chapter I will shout out someone, as a thank you for reading! If you want to be the next shout out, you just have to VOTE and leave a COMMENT (anything you want to).
This week's shout out: Petaach ! One of the biggest suporters of this novel since the beginning! From the fanart to lovely coments and messages, I really apreciate it! 🖤
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The kitchen was filled with a plethora of delicious smells as the soft beat from the Bluetooth speaker mixed with the sound of the food being prepared by the young master.
Dean was completely in his element, as he stirred, cut and seasoned, alone in a light-filled room. For the past few months, he had gone from barely dealing with anyone, to be surrounded by people on the daily basis. Not that he was complaining. Although it was out of his comfort zone, he found it strangely enjoyable to be part of a group of friends. He knew he couldn't be considered one of them completely, but that didn't make him less thankful for each joke or conversation the others made him a part of.
His peace and quiet were interrupted, however, when a ring tone sounded through the kitchen. Putting the wooden spoon down, the boy looked around for the source of the sound, until he found his mother's business phone laid on the kitchen island.
Cleaning his hands on to the apron, he grabbed the machine, bolting up the stairs to his mother's office. Unfortunately, the phone stopped ringing a few steps from the door, but he still knocked, entering as soon as the permission was given.
The woman smiled at him from her desk as soon as he entered, laying down the pen on her hand.
- Hi sweetie. I was actually thinking about calling you right now.
Closing the door behind him, Dean approached the desk, showing the phone on his hand.
- You left it in the kitchen. It was ringing.
- Thank you, I'm an airhead lately. – she grabbed the machine Dean had put on the desk, checking the name in the notification. – I need to call back.
Instead of turning to leave the office, Dean smiled at the woman, cocking his head ever so slightly.
- Did you say you were going to call me?
- Ah, yes. Yes, I did.
The woman looked back to the papers on the desk, searching for a specific one until she finally fished out a scribbled paper with numbers on them. With a sweet corner smile, she passed it to her son, who didn't need any other explanation upon seeing the math problem. Smiling to her, he arched an eyebrow.
