I have never liked the idea of being touched or even the idea of people being what I deem as being 'too close' to me. I honestly could not tell you when that began. Maybe I've always been that way, maybe I was a baby that just did not like being picked up or maybe it was later? Maybe it started in early childhood when my father left or may be later when my... I truly don't know but what I do know is that I don't ever remember liking the idea.

I don't like it when anyone enters my personal space.

It's one of the reasons I prefer to have the elevator to myself.

I don't like it when anyone makes physical contact without my permission.

I much prefer air kisses.

I definitely do not like to be hugged, by anyone other than my darling girls of course.

Both of my ex-husbands would attest to those facts.

But apparently, those facts don't apply to one other specific person.

And it all started on an ordinary work day with a far from ordinary interview...

She seemed to stutter and stumble her way into my office in an outfit that was barely fit for the halls of autouniverse so it was definitely not fit for the hallways of Runway in any way whatsoever but there she was. She didn't even seem bothered by how much she clearly did not fit in, however, there was something about her that simply intrigued and enraptured me.

Nigel noticed, of course, that much was obvious.

"Emily," I called out quietly, "Hire her".

"But... she left," the English woman stuttered with surprise, clearly not fond of my decision.

"Then you better hurry," I told her, "Don't bother coming back without her". I'm sure she did hear the last part as she ran towards the staircase, considering the fact she sped up at about the same time.

When I looked towards Nigel, he smirked. I found myself rolling my eyes and muttering, "Oh, shut up".

Everything carried on as normal after that interview, but gradually I came to realise there was something going on that was very abnormal.

Never before had I felt the urge to be lose to someone.

Never before had I felt the need to make any physical contact with someone.

Then there was her.

She made a ridiculous comment about belts one day during a run-through, such an uneducated comment from such a smart young woman, and I found myself lecturing her on as aspect of fashion I never expected to be discussing. Cerulean. The colour of her rather unfashionable sweater. Partially, I admit, because her comment was rather annoying. It was mostly, however, just because I needed a distraction. So, I distracted myself with mostly 'alternative facts' to prevent myself from kissing that stupid look off of her face.

It had only been gradual before that point so it was the background need to be close to her and at times make contact.

I found myself brushing at Andrea's shoulder, "Lint," I offered as an exclamation to the strange look I was getting from Nigel who was stood behind her. She, however, was just smiling.

That heart soaring smile.

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers trailing down the side of her face and I end up cupping her face in my hand. I moved my hand away when I heard someone behind me but she just carried on smiling.

With such kissable lips.

Her hair got caught in her coat and I found myself, much to Emily's surprise, moving closer and helping her. I untangled the strands of hair that were caught in the button and soon found myself helping her out of her coat, even fixing her hair afterwards. I didn't even realise what I had done until I saw the expression on my assistant's face. The shock. Andrea did not seem fazed at all, as she still simply smiled and whispered, "Thank you."

So many times, I felt this unreasonable to urge to be closer to her.

At the Gala, Emily was supposed to give me a name and yet she failed so my Andrea leaned in to tell me instead. If it had been anyone else that close I would have probably felt irritated, but it was her. So, I leaned in more. I leaned in closer, close enough to feel her breath on my cheek. I wanted to lean even closer. I wanted to feel her lips.

I should have known back then that I was gone, but for some reason, I didn't realise.

One of the many meetings that she attended with me, and more specifically, beside me, I found myself drifting towards her. Leaning ever so slightly towards her. Close enough that the scent of her perfume calmed me. Not that I realised the first few times. Then at times my hand would end up next to hers, the sides of our hands ever so gently touching. Although, to my disappointment, the contact did not last long enough for my liking.

I was so used to hating the idea of being touched that I think the first few times I was in denial.

By the time that Paris Fashion Week came along, the need to be close to her was almost unbearable but at the same time Andrea seemed to gravitate towards me too. Alone in the car, my hand would take hers in mine. Alone in my hotel room, there was not an inch of space between us. And on the day that I almost lost her. The day I nearly pushed her away because the need to be close to her was starting to scare me. On that day, after turning to see that she was no longer beside me, I followed. I did not just follow, however, as I reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist. Months ago I would never have contemplated doing that and I definitely would not have contemplated carrying out my next move.

I hugged her.

The first time I remember willingly hugging anyone other than my children.

For a moment, I felt calmer in that moment than I ever remember feeling. I felt safer too, like nothing and nobody could possibly harm me.. even the papparazi snapping behind me like sharks. The feel of her heartbeat was like the most soothing music ever created.

She hugged me back in that moment and whispered that if I didn't loosen my grip I'd probably break a rib. I let go, worried I would but she just laughed and hugged me again.

I had always wondered what people meant by 'feeling at home' and until that moment, in my Andrea's arms, I had never felt such a thing. The kiss that followed it simply sealed my fate. I had found where I belong, so maybe that was why I never liked to be touched... maybe I was waiting for the right arms, the place where I belong.