Part of her is screaming at her to jerk her hand away, not let him touch her, but there's something so calming, so reassuring about it. She is enjoying herself, isn't she? Isn't it exciting to be at the center of attention like this? She scrubs furiously at her eyes with the back of her other hand, smearing her mascara. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I must sound so ungrateful. I'm just overwhelmed."

She laughs, self-deprecatingly. "You must think I'm a mess."