She grabs her sleeping bag from earlier and spreads it out on the sectional. Then she climbs inside still wearing my clothes.
I watch her settle. Watch her adjust the cushion she’s using as a pillow. Watch her pull the sleeping bag up cover to her chin.
She looks so small in it. So vulnerable.
And every protective instinct I thought I’d buried years ago roars to life.
Fuck.
“Goodnight, Gregory.” Her voice is already drowsy.
“Night.” I stay in the chair. Tell myself I’m just making sure the fire doesn’t die down. That I’m being practical.
Not that I want to watch her sleep.
Not that I’m thinking about how her hair looked when I washed it last night. How it felt between my fingers. How she made that soft sound when I massaged her scalp.
Definitely not thinking about any of that.
She’s asleep within minutes. Her breathing evens out. Becomes deep and steady.
I sit there in the dark, watching her chest rise and fall.
Eventually, my own exhaustion catches up. I grab a blanket from the storage chest. Forgo the wingback chair, and instead go to my spot at the opposite end of the sectional.
We’re maybe six feet apart.
Might as well be miles.
I close my eyes and try not to think about how easy it would be to close that distance.
I wake to cold.
The fire’s died down to embers. The room temperature has dropped at least ten degrees.
Shit.
I check my watch. Three in the morning. Christmas Day, technically, though it doesn’t feel like it.
Outside, the storm rages. The wind howls, and sleets of snow scrape against the glass.
Before I get up, I notice something...
We’ve moved.
During sleep, we’ve both shifted closer. The six feet of careful distance has shrunk to maybe two feet. Our blankets are nearly touching.
She’s still asleep. Curled on her side. Facing me.
Her face is peaceful in sleep. So soft and unguarded.
This close, even though the firelight is dim, I can still see details I missed before. The small mole near her left eyebrow. The way her lashes fan against her cheeks. The slight parting of her lips as she breathes.
She’s so fucking beautiful, it’s heartbreaking
I’ve been trying not to notice. Trying to focus on the ideological chasm between us.
But right now, watching her sleep by firelight on Christmas morning, I can’t pretend anymore.
