“Mornin’,” he says.
My stomach flips. “Morning.”
For a few seconds we just stare at each other. Maybe it’s too long, or maybe it’s not long enough, I don’t know, but I do become acutely aware of many things.
The way his hand is still resting on my waist, his thumb tracing over my skin. The way my leg is tangled with his, and the fact that I am very much aware of his body…and just how awake he is.
My cheeks heat and of course, he notices.
“Sorry, not sorry.” His mouth twitches and he grins, slow and lazy and entirely too pleased with himself. “You fed the beast and now he’ll be hungry every moment of every day whenever you’re around.” He doesn’t push and he doesn’t tease further, nor does he shift the moment into something heavier.Instead, his thumb just traces another quiet line across my side. Grounding and safe. Always safe.
I like when he touches me.
“You okay?” he asks.
The question seems simple, but it’s not, because what he’s really asking me is something more profound.
Are you still here?
Did last night scare you away?
Are you going to run?
For once I don’t want to run. “Yeah,” I say softly. “I’m okay.”
Something in his expression loosens just a little. “Good,” he says.
We stay like this for another quiet moment before I glance toward the window. “It stopped raining.”
“Mm.”
“You have practice today?”
“Yeah.”
“What time?”
“Later.” He doesn’t move and he doesn’t get up. He’s in no rush, almost like staying here with me is his plan for the day. And that thought fills my chest with something warm and fuzzy.
“I should probably go,” I say, testing him, even though my body doesn’t make a single move to follow through.
“Okay.”
Wait.
What?
He said okay?
Does he want me to go?
He just told me not to go anywhere.
There’s no argument, no pressure…and I don’t understand that.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
