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: It's currently happening the nominations for The Fiction Awards 2019, and if you enjoy this book I wanted to ask you to nominate Touch Of Hope. There's an explanation on how to nominate it on the previous publication within this book and also on my profile (click on my profile pic, go to "conversations" and go a bit down). It would mean the world to me!
PLEASE VOTE: I know many people forget, but the votes are what boosts the story so more people can find it. 🖤🙏
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: thejadecat19 ! Thank you so much for your support, your love for the characters and your comments! I hope you keep enjoying this book ❤
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When Blake entered the kitchen, notepad in hand, his attention was instantaneously caught by his mother's tone.
- That's ridiculous, Finn. – she asserted, not looking away from her cooking as she laid a salmon fillet on the pan. – You have to celebrate your birthday.
Looking at Finn, who was currently washing dishes at the sink, Blake smiled amused to himself. Given the situation didn't involve him, he resorted to keeping up with his chores, walking towards the huge fridge where the beverages were stored. The small staff roamed in and out of the kitchen as well, but the family was used to the busy surroundings, so it didn't impact the conversation.
As Blake distributed the drinks between the glasses, the discussion continued.
- I really don't need it, mom. I can use that time to study.
- Non-sense. You can study every other day. – she clacked back, not missing a beat. After flipping the salmon on the pan, the woman turned to her eldest son, hands on hips. – If you don't want to go out with your friends, then you will bring them here and I will prepare dinner.
- Mom, you are already spending your days cooking, you don...
- If I spend my days cooking for strangers, I will very well cook a special dinner for my son's birthday.
Blake lifted the tray with the glasses, exiting the kitchen to the noisy restaurant. After serving the drinks and getting a few more orders from clients, he made his way behind the counter, towards the kitchen. Just before he entered, the door swung open, revealing Finn with a defeated aura threading into his usually stoic expression.
Not even attempting to hide his amusement, Blake smiled at the other and cocked an eyebrow.
- So... birthday dinner?
- Birthday dinner.
Later that night, Blake sat on his bed surrounded by a sea of papers and a few books, slowly drowning in agony.
