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Felix had never held a girl's hand before. Of course, he'd held his mother's hand when he was a child, and he was known to force some of his friends to hold his hand if he was scared. But he'd never held the hand of someone who he was remotely romantically interested in.
He still had no clue how this night had led up to this point. With you holding his hand.
Was he sweaty? Could you tell that he was shaking slightly? Did you want to let go, but felt too bad about doing so?
This was turning out to be more complicated than he thought it would.
He chanced a glance over at you, but your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were asleep. You looked so peaceful lying there next to him, a slight smile pulling up the edges of your full lips. He had the sudden urge to kiss you, but he didn't. He didn't want to scare the crap out of you. Plus, it was way too early for something like that. He'd barely just admitted his feelings for you. You'd probably run away if you woke up to him leaning over you like a vampire.
He was about to lay back down and pretend like he was asleep as well, when a song, loud and catchy, blared through the night, exploding his eardrums.
You shot up like you'd seen a dead man, and rummaged around in your pajama pocket. It was just then that he realized you were wearing the cutest matching pajama set he'd ever laid eyes on. He had to force his gaze away from the crop top that barely covered your ample chest. His cheeks were burning so hot he wondered if he'd gotten too much sun earlier. He'd never considered himself to be the objectifying type, but when it came to you, he couldn't stop staring. He was being respectful, he reminded himself. He was just looking, admiring maybe. And now that he knew you liked him back, maybe you wouldn't mind so much. Maybe, just maybe, you were looking at him, too.
