𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ✓

TWENTY-THREE

-

The shower doesn't help my hazy mind much. My body is clean, smells like roses, and my thick, curly hair is slightly wet, beads of water falling onto my exposed, olive-toned skin. I stand on the porch, green spaghetti-strap top and white sweatshorts on, my arms crossed in front of my chest as I let my gaze drift across the reflecting water of the lake. When I came out of the bathroom, Sebastian wasn't in my - well, the bedroom anymore, so I put on some clothes and hushed past him. He sat on the couch, laptop balancing on his knees, his article open like we didn't roll around in the sheets earlier, moaning each other's names. Acting tough, Stan?

My mind slips back to the sentence he'd uttered after we both realized that it was going to happen. 

"The truth is, I wanted you since the day I walked into that shared office of ours and saw you sitting there."

Shivers take over my body, my shoulders and back are covered in goosebumps. The slight breeze that shakes the green leaves on the trees around the cabin gets to me. But somehow, I am frozen, feet rooted into the ground as my mind circles around that statement. How out of breath he'd been. How he'd kissed me like he had to wait far too long to do it. What even is this?

I hug myself a little tighter and pull my shoulders up. My curls are still dripping waterdrops down my back ever so slowly, so the action doesn't get me much more warmth. I should probably go inside. On the other hand, I don't know what to say when I see him again. When I have to talk to him again. 

Damn, Stan, I really didn't even expect you to be the particularly cuddly kind.

Wrong. I recall last night when I had slept in his arms like a baby on valerian. 

Clouds race across the sky, birdy fly to find a spot to sleep for the approaching night, and I know for a fact that the sky behind me is slowly turning a purple-tinted orange while the sun sets behind the mountains right across from me. It's peacefully silent, picture-perfect for National Geographic, but I still can't stop thinking about him. 

I continue to stand there for I-Don't-Know-How-Long, and eventually, I hear the porch door slide open ever so quietly. It's the only sound I hear besides the soft burbling of the lake. Despite knowing that it is him joining me on the terrace, I still can't move a single muscle.

"Hey, Charlie," his gentle voice cuts through the silence, and I press my lips together, closing my eyes. The mere sound of his voice makes my stomach explode and my insides melt. Be cursed for your soothing voice.

"Hey," I mutter quietly, instantly biting on my lower lip. Is he planning on confronting me now? Have the big talk about what the hell we are now? I don't even have an idea myself.

"You're shivering," he states in the same faint tone, but in a way that makes me think he's struggling to keep it steady. I shrug and slowly turn my head in the direction I heard his voice come from. He has a thick hoodie in his hands, a grey one with a zipper down the front to make it a jacket. Without further comment, he drapes it over my shoulders. One hand gently nudges my arm. Put it on, he tries to tell me. And I do. 

Slowly, I let my body relax as I slide my arms in the cozy sleeves. The hoodie is far too big on me. It's his.

It even smells like him ever so faintly, and I smirk, my eyes glued to the floor. As soon as I have the jacket on the way it's intended to, I immediately go back to my previous position by crossing my arms in front of my chest. My hands cup my elbows to lock my arms. Sebastian stands right beside me, his gaze also fixated somewhere onto the horizon when I side-eye him. 

The silence is comfortable. The hoodie warms my chill skin while the breeze makes my hair sway and dry. If only it could be like this all the damn time.

"Beautiful, isn't it," I eventually mumble, taking a deep breath of the warm summer air. When he doesn't answer, I turn my head in his direction, only to discover that he is no longer looking at the magnificent sunset. He's looking at me. 

"Yup, beautiful," he sighs with a grin emerging on his face, but before it fully takes over his face, he suppresses it and turns away. Is that man blushing? 

"Who would've thought you can be so sappy?" I joke to lighten the mood. My sarcastic tone takes us back to before the trip. When all we ever did was tease and insult each other. And now I'm wearing his hoodie while we're watching the sunset. 

"Oh, shut it," he chuckles under his breath, still not looking at me again. I pout. I like when he looks at me. I don't know if he's always looked at me like this, but oh God.

He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Thanks for the hoodie," I change the subject, "I didn't realize I was cold."

Lie. I did know. I just couldn't move a bone because I was too busy thinking about you. About us.

Us.

That word echoes in my head now. Is there an Us? I have no idea. All we did was... 

I feel like there should be an Us. 

"No problem," he eventually replies, and silence emerges that begs to be broken. It's still not uncomfortable, but I don't want this conversation to die. And I have a feeling he might think the same. So for a few moments, we both just hope that the other says something first. 

Until I can't take it anymore. Anything is fine, I tell myself, say something.

"Are you hungry?"

He looks over to me, pupils no longer taking over the majority of his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek before he eventually nods.

"Actually, I'm starving."

Me too, I catch myself thinking as we shuffle inside, Starving from your touch, actually. 

Who would've known I would ever be that sentimental when thinking about Sebastian Stan?