breather | s.m

10

| 1 0 | T E N |

We have dinner at Nando's (predictable, I know), and you buy me dinner like promised. You give me a comical, disapproving look and as you do it, and I grin back at you.

Harry sits beside Olive and Olive beside me, and we talk and eat and she seems very, very happy. You can see it in her face, her eyes - she laughs at something Harry says. He's grinning at her, talking with his hands. I wonder what he's telling her about.

'Do you want to come back to mine after, watch a movie?'

I'm watching Olive and Harry, my mind turning. I don't really hear you. Or I do, but I don't process it. You nudge me in the side and I look at you, all eyes.

'I asked if you wanted to come back to mine after. Watch a movie.' You nod your head over at Olive. 'She can come too, if you want. Hang out with Harry.'

I grin. 'Yes please.' You smile, and the conversation is over, so I look down at my meal. It's significantly less appealing in visuals than it appeared in the pictures, but that's always the way. I drop my fork, pushing my plate forward so I can rest my chin on my hands, elbows on the table. I give you a big smile, blowing air through my lips. It catches the tip of my grown-out fringe, sending it up in front of my face momentarily. 'So. How's your life?'

'How's my life,' you muse, putting your own fork down. You pretend to think. 'That's a very broad question.'

'Life is a very broad thing.'

'Touche,' you admit, giving me a lazy smile. It's a lived-in kind of smile. 'It's good. I'm tired. Always tired.'

'You should sleep earlier,' I tell you, nudging my leg into yours. My knee sits against your jeans, and there's two layers of material between us, but you still tingle against me like it's just bare skin against skin. I'm thinking about skin against skin then, and you, and the fact you have shoulders that are beneath that shirt, bare, broad shoulders gripped in lean muscle. I swallow, and you're watching me. I wonder if you're thinking about me, too.

'I should,' you tell me, your fingers skimming along my palm. I try not to, but a slight shiver runs up my spine. I hope you don't notice, but I think you do, because your face slips into a kind of hooded smile. You bend in, pressing a kiss to the side of my head, and you tangle your fingers in mine. I can feel my heartbeat in my arms, chest, knees. Your hand is warm, swallowing mine. You head lingers by my ear. 'Stay over,' you whisper.

I nearly choke on non-existing chicken. 'What?'

'Not like that,' you say, still close to me. You pull back a little so I can look at you. Your eyes look between mine, deep, dark blue. 'I mean, that would be great. But that's not what I mean. I meant I just want you to stay. I want to fall asleep next to you, and then be there to wake up with you.'

A sudden nervousness creeps through me despite the sweetness of your gesture. 'Oh, um, I don't know,' I say, fiddling with your hand. 'I'm a bit of a wild sleeper, sometimes. Like, legs, everywhere. And I steal sheets.'

And I can feel them, the excuses, tumbling from me like rain down a car window. You just smile, shaking your head. I can't tell if you're disappointed or not. 'Okay. Whatever you want. But I'd like it, if you would too. Just think about it. There's no pressure, love.'

'Okay,' I mumble, and you tuck your legs around mine, so we're all tangled. You're warm, soft, comfortable. I imagine us together, in your bed, not knowing where each began and each ended. Tracing fingertips along your jaw. Just sleeping. I don't think I'm ready for anything else, not yet. Maybe I am. I don't know. I don't want to take this too fast.

We share a cab home. Olive agrees to come, so she crams in the back with Harry and me. You sit in the front and talk to the driver, and I don't really hear what you're talking about because Harry and Olive are chatting loudly beside me, slightly drunk. You glance back at me between words, and there's a smile in your eyes and all of your face. You look so, so happy, and it hurts, but in the very best way.

As you turn back around I watch you talk. You talk with your hands, and you seem interested, engaged. I think then about how much I like you. How much I like who you are and how you do things. How you drive. How you talk. How you weave yourself into my life as if it's the easiest thing in the world.

I glance down at my lap as we trundle over the roads, Olive and Harry beside me, conversation indistinct. I think then maybe I will stay, to be with you. I look back at you, but you're facing away, the shadows swallowing your face. 

a/n

gosh i love writing this

i hope the few people who read this like it :) all i can hope for x