Across the wide, wood table, a brunette woman with bright brown eyes an laugh lines passes a humungous bowl of pasta salad to a tall blond boy. He smiles, his blue eyes winking and sparking involuntarily, and says thank you, Abby, this is delicious.
She looks at me with a blatant: he's wonderful, look.
Yeah. I know.
Adrian stuffs his face and I pick at my salad, more interested in watching him. He's sitting across from me and mom is at the head of the table. Something nudges my foot.
I look up at him with questioning eyebrows and he smirks down at his plate, fiddling with the sleeves of his navy sweater.
He looks very preppy and clean tonight in skinny chinos and a new, navy sweater that covers up all of the tattoos save the one on his finger. Mom noticed it, of course.
She simply asked if it meant anything, and he shrugged: save the elephants? Then I loudly face-palmed and she laughed.
His sock foot touches my bare one, just a teasing nudge. I push him back and he grins, asking my mom about the book that was sitting on the coffee table.
He was smart enough not to mention the absence of my father, even though I never prepped him for it. Though I caught him looking closely at the old family photo beside the couch.
He takes forever to finish his food, eating and chatting and laughing at all the embarrassing bathroom/stripping/sneezing/barfing stories of my childhood. When he takes the last drag of apple juice from his mismatched glass, I stand up carrying my plate.
"May we be excused?" I ask. Mom arches an eyebrow.
"Of course, honey." She smiles at the both of us and takes my plate to slide it on top of hers.
"Come on," I gesture with my head for Adrian to follow me. He stands gracefully and nods to my mom like a gentleman. I roll my eyes.
I gaze about my room with new eyes as he steps into it. It's small, because our apartment is small, and pretty dim. My twin bed is shoved into the corner, and all I've got is a clothes chest, a tall book case, and this window seat thing my Mom's friend Ames made for me. That was before, of course, he decided he wanted out of the friendzone; she put a stop to that efficiently and we don't talk to him anymore.
The pretty thing, though, is the Christmas lights. They're possibly called faerie lights in the developed world, but the boxes said for Christmas trees. I stung them all around the walls and ceiling to use instead of the harsh overhead, and the effect is gorgeous. All soft and glowy, it makes me want to curl up under my covers and read fanfiction.
I turn to Adrian, and he glances down at me. "So..." I say.
"So..." He says, speculatively. He faces me fully and twines both of our hands. "Is the bed off limits?"
"Depends," I say carefully. He smiles.
"On?"
"Your intentions." That sounded better in my head. His grin is even prettier in his light.
"My intentions..." he cocks his was to the side. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes."
"I am fine with kissing. Kissing is good. Just kissing." He bites his lip. "So?"
The way he says kissing makes me want to fall onto the duvet and pull him down on too of me. I don't think it's even intentional but he has such a lovely mouth...
"Okay." I say, and pull him with me towards the bed. I lie back against my pillow and he follows me, smiling this adorable secret smile and propping himself on his arms. I trace a line from his forehead to his nose. "Hey, Aide?"
"Hmm?" He flutters his eyelashes and I die a little bit inside. He's a work of art.
"You're really pretty." I say, because I couldn't stop myself. He snorts a chuckle, and shakes his head. Then he leans closer and starts placing small, delicate, individual kisses across my lips.
We become ensconced among the many pillows and soft, fluffy duvet. His fingers trail across my face and jaw and neck but nowhere else, and his mouth his warm on mine.
[[yeH idek this is awkward because I'm writing this with a dude sitting across from me and he keeps looking at me and like bruh what's youre problem?? and then I'm here writing 0.25 smut]]
His eyelashes leave a smattering of butterfly kisses that match the ones in my stomach, and when he leans up a little bit for breath I run my fingers through his thick, rainbow-reflecting hair.
"You're pretty, too, you know. I love these," he taps my nose, indicating the thick layer of freckles there. My skin is pale, bordering on translucent, and I acquire new freckles by the week.
"I don't. They make me look like a little kid." I say, wrinkling my nose. He seems delighted, and touches my nose to smooth out the lines.
"You do not look like a little kid. That, I can assure you." He winks in a totally not-lascivious way and swoops back down to kiss me again. Then, like a loon, I start giggling and he does too.
Suddenly, we're on our sides shivering with laugher like little kids. His face is split and his eyes are squinted and dancing, his teeth bright in the dimness.
"Gracie..." he says, sexily breathless. "I really really like you."
***
i might combust with these feels like agshjsjsjshdjjshsh ;) ;) ;) i was actually in a horrible mood when i started this chapter but now i'm smiling hugely and fangirling about my own characters like wow is this normal??
