Dusk&Summer

23.

Lavender. He woke up to lavender filling everyone of his senses, and a tiny girl wrapped around him. He didn't remember falling asleep the night before. His last memory was of her snoring softly but he must have slept. Because now he was waking up to the smell of lavender and the distinct feeling that just maybe he never wanted to move again. He would be okay just staying like this.

He opened his eyes slowly and then closed them again as he buried his nose in her hair. He didn't want to move. As he took a deep breath, inhaling the flowery scent, he realized he felt completely at peace holding her in his arms. She was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful, and he didn't think he would ever stop noticing that. If he could wake up like this for the rest of his life, he would never stop noticing how beautiful she was.

His heart stopped in his chest at the thought. He liked her. He liked her more than anyone he had ever been with. He knew he didn't want this to just be a summer fling, something forgotten about in the fall. But suddenly, he could wake up like this forever. He wanted to wake up like this forever. He loved the idea of the first smell being lavender, the first thought being how beautiful the tiny girl in his arms was.

He opened his eyes again as he pulled away slightly from her, taking a moment to really look at her. She was curled tightly around him, the oversized t-shirt swallowing her small body. At some point in the middle of the night, she had kicked off the blankets, and he tried to tear his eyes from the creamy skin of her thigh, staring instead at the way her blonde waves fell into her peaceful face.

He had been fighting the urge for days now to see if there were any pictures here of her when she was younger. He remembered her being cute. But he needed to know if there had been any hints as to what she was going to grow into, if the looks had been hidden or something. Because now she was the most beautiful woman he could remember knowing. He would be okay just looking at her all day.

When she had been younger, her hair had always been pulled back in perfect little ponytails or, around the age of seven or eight, braids. The only time he could remember it flying behind her freely was when she came here with his family, when a nanny wasn't around to make sure she looked perfect. He frowned slightly as he reached over to push a strand of hair off her face, his hands shaking.

He was falling. He knew he was. He was falling faster than he ever remembered falling before, and certainly harder but he was falling. It had only been a couple of weeks and a few days since he had seen her for the first time in three years but already he didn't want to imagine her anywhere but with him. It had only taken that long for him to start falling for the amazing woman that she had become

It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. She was Meredith Grey. She was Sophie's best friend. The little girl who liked to use the deck chairs as a house and share her ice cream. He shouldn't be falling for her. He had known her since she was five years old, he had helped his father when Meredith had lost her first tooth, and they had tried to stop the bleeding and her tears.

She had always been tiny little Meredith Grey. Mark and Brian had spend years terrorizing him about the crush she obviously had on him. They bothered him constantly about the soft way she would blush when he talked to her and the way she had followed him around. It had never bothered him. She had been cute and the crush had been innocent. Last time he had seen her she was more than over it.

And now here she was, in his bed. Little Meredith Grey who wasn't so little anymore. Little Meredith Grey who had the perfect body. Little Meredith Grey who made his heart race when she bent forward to kiss him. Little Meredith Grey who made his world stop with her giggle. This was ridiculous. She was Meredith. She was the little girl he and Dad had taught to ride a bike.

This was wrong. It felt entirely right in ways nothing had ever actually felt right before, but something about all of this had to be wrong. She had grown up with them. She had run in and out of the summer house with them. He had taught her to fish. And even if they had had a very strange friendship when she was little, it didn't mean that any of this was right. She had all but been part of his family.