"Well, can you see it?" she said, jolting me back into reality. "Umm, no, just a minute," I said, and made like I was looking around but all the time ... was staring up her skirt. Then I spotted the remote; it had fallen on the floor in front of her. "Oh, there it is," I said, "It's under your skirt." I have no idea why I said that, but I picked the remote up from the floor and snuck it under her legs, being careful not to touch her so she wouldn't realize that I had put it there. Belatedly, I. Giving herself an out. An excuse if things didn't work out. Maybe it was something simple that was making her do this. Like being afraid. Afraid of being hurt."Do I have a number?" she asked suddenly.I stared at her for what felt like an age. Yes, you do. But I'm never ever going to tell you what it was. That was the problem. I had been living a life of numbers. A different one each week - maybe even more than one. I sat forward further and held out both of my hands. "Reach out," I told her as. More

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