He reached across his body and gripped his left sleeve tight with his right hand.

Derek stopped pouring the syrup.

He set the heavy glass pitcher down by the napkin holder.

He leaned over and touched Noah’s forearm gently.

Noah flinched again and pulled his arm back.

“That looks a little sore, buddy,” Derek said.

“I only bumped into the table in the hallway,” Noah said.

Derek rubbed his thumb against his knuckle.