Hand To Hold On To Novels & Stories

She said, holding my hand. What?

H, at times she felt she might be at home. She turned over and realized someone was holding her hand. "Hot." She said a word and grasped the other person's hand more tightly. The furnace seemed to be melting her body, her fingertips reaching up, trying to grasp a tool that could cool her down. Touching and feeling around, there was only the hand holding hers, emitting a cool scent. She pulled the person over and couldn't help but say, "Mr. H, listen." The hand suddenly let go of her.

Just held my hand. And that was enough.

Adrian reaches over and takes my hand. His grip is firm. Professional. Like a handshake. Victor stares. “You’re holding her hand like you’re closing a business deal.” “I am holding her hand.” “With the warmth of a mortgage document.” He stands to demonstrate, fingers loose, thumb brushing knuckles. Adrian watching a tutorial on hand-holding is genuinely one of the most surreal things I’ve witnessed. “Now you.” Adrian adjusts. Loosens his fingers. His thumb traces my knuckles once, experimentally.

Then I turned my hand over slowly beneath his. And held on.

When I hold your hand, it gives me a feeling that you are mine. Not as if I own you, but you are mine. You belong to me. Are you getting me? It’s like me holding something that I hold so dear. And it’s not to show others that you are mine. No. I love to hold your hand more when it’s just two of us alone. It’s about me feeling that you belong to me. Even when the grip is feather light, I know that you are my closest. Even when I squeeze your hand tightly, it’s the most delicate moment I feel. There is just something so intimate about our palms coming together and our fingers locking in. And I love that smooth caressing of your thumb on my hand. It feels like you telling me – I love you too. A

April took a deep breath and held Adriana's hand. Something is definitely off.

"You're walking in there with me. That's not a question." My mouth opened‚ and then closed. Because what was I going to say? No? To him? He'd carry me out of this car over his shoulder and we both knew it. "Okay… I just... I need a second." "You've had a second. You've had several." He reached over and took my hand‚ wrapping his fingers around mine and squeezed hard enough. "When that door opens‚ you hold onto me and you don't let go. That's all you have to do. Okay?”

His eyes softened as he looked at me. The wind picked up slightly, but neither of us moved. He held my hand like it was the only thing that kept him sane. I wasn’t used to that. People holding on to me. People staying.

Something that felt like falling and flying at the same time. My hands, traitorous and trembling, clutched at his shoulders. Not pushing him away this time but holding on, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only solid thing in a world gone liquid. My fingers dug into the muscle beneath, feeling the power coiled there, barely restrained. Feeling how easily he could break me if he chose to.