don't you go // lrh

/twenty eight/

/top secret/

/amara/

I swear last night is a dream. Until Luke shivers against me.

I don't mind the cold as much. But I know he does, now.

It's not feeling so cute this morning, in the grey and the dew and the fog, but it did last night. To just sleep out here.

I brought Luke out to the playhouse, it was warmer than just standing out here.

I don't remember when we even fell asleep. I must've dozed off mid sentence. I dreamt about the night. And about Luke. I was sure I was going to wake up out here alone because maybe having too much to drink causes an over active dream state.

"Hey." I whisper.

Luke sits up, leans on his elbows while taking in his surroundings. I'd be confused too. Glass doors and a couple throw blankets and a pile of childrens books in the corner.

He wipes his eyes, a smile lazily drags across his face.

"Morning." He says.

We made it til morning. He's not itching to get away from me. His phone's not out. So far so good, I think.

"It's warmer inside." I promise.

Luke and I step over deflating balloons and confetti when we get into the house. And he holds my hands the whole way.

I didn't know why when we got to my bedroom it suddenly got very real for me. This moment.

It's the first time Luke's seeing my bedroom.

A space that's so private.

I glance over at him when I reach for the door knobs, just so I don't psych myself out.

I mumble something about changing and how I'll grab him something to wear, too nervous to live in this moment, I need to do something with my hands, occupy my mind.

I only stop for a second when I see Cat fast asleep in one of her many beds, this one's in the closet.

When I come back out in my own pajamas and holding onto Luke's clothes, from before, he's standing really close to the bulletin board, looking at all my pictures.

He notices me, takes the clothes from my hands, gives my forehead a quick kiss, and walks to the other side of the room.

I keep my record player on a shelf with a bunch of other little shelves. It's actually meant for outdoors. For plants. But I kept it in here. He pokes his finger at my pilea plants in their white pots. Flips through some of my records. He shakes some of my snow globes.

Then he picks up my things on the nightstand. More books. Vintage matchbooks I collect and use for my candles. Sometimes cigarettes. Crystals my mom gave me from when she used to collect.

His eyes glaze up to the bulletin board and he finds the wristbands from when we were in New York, and Vegas. He grazes them with his fingers and goes into the bathroom soon after to change.

And we really did just lay there. For a while. We laid on our sides and stared. I couldn't tell in that moment if I really did just meet Luke or if I've always known him.

I should be freaking out. There's a boy. In my room. In my bed!

But I feel so at ease with him here.

I traced my finger over his perfect, perfect nose. Perfect especially because it's real. He's got the lightest little freckles around his eyes. His lips are the perfect shape and his Cupid's bow looks like I crafted it myself. His lashes look long as hell against his skin, his eyes are fluttering. He's dozing back off.