Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
//
The vinyl crackles like the fire: torrid in my loins. It's winter, the holidays are in full swing.
Though I am inside, at a perch to the windows pane I can feel the gust of late December wind, the snow at a pile outside. The greens danced in the attack, leaves at a pile to the ground, smothered in the white. It was a normal slice of scenery that should have me at peace, but with the blizzard at war they were on a temporary break.
"Leia, I'm making some homemade hot chocolate."
Sam reflects off the glass, arms locked in front of him, azure mug dangling from his fingers and it just frustrated me endlessly. Everything reminded me of him. "Please." Thought he didn't directly ask, I knew it was a query, and he does spare a spread of canines before traipsing off. "You betcha, girl!"
The cold from the ice surrounded through, skin crawling to part ways but I stay, almost lured to the ache it numbed into me.
The emotional havoc whirled inside of me, a question rolling round my head like a ball in pool, the answers springing back just as quick.
The attraction has not fleeted, do I risk admittance?
I thought it to put me at ease, though one can't take back and admission of.. there was yet a word for it, rolling over my tongue like staled crisps. Not love, not yet. Much too early.
At least that was my excuse, pressing the issue to the back of my mind to debate in later hours, Sams bicep outstretched - interrupting my internal feud. His eyes searched mine and I took interest in the radiance of gold in his. "I'm sensing you're not doing hot locked away like Rapunzel."
I stiffly nod, peering out to the hunch of person, leaned over the counter in work.
"Yeah, that's it."
The vagueness does nothing to satisfy his attempt at emotional connection, and he settles his coat over my knees, numb from pressing to the pane before speaking again. "I know that look."
'Now it is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about' I quote to none, lips still sealed, but attention turned to him.
"He looks at you like that too." There is no explanation as he smooths out my hair, taking step off to his own room, leaving us lone and feet part.
Looks at me like what.
To picture his slate blue eyes, burning into my back as I swing with each step, following the records hum. To even think to have a magnetizing effect upon him burns a heat to my ears, breath at a hitch. Like a shot across the bows - I won't love another after Leo, but without any tries I'm wrapped right around his finger.
"Steve." I mean to sound thick, but it's hard, golden hair like a whirlpool in the waiting sun, poppies glow on his cheeks - I'd whip my own ass into shape if I wasn't so flustered by his state of focus.
How dare anyone be so sexy just having at a read.
"Leia, are you cold? you're flush." And his caring nature wisps, sweater slipping from his shoulders. I want to deny it, but the scent that wafts from it nearly sends me to metaphorical cloud nine.
He slips it onto me, settling me to the carpet near the cracking flame, rubbing up and down my biceps in comfort.
The admittance must wait, I can't risk these moments.
