𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝟐𝟕

The scent of weed filled the air, thick and earthy, as I lay against Davis, feeling his body warm beneath mine. The sound of Martin's voice from the TV was background noise now—just a hum that didn't really matter. What did matter was the way Davis's hand felt against my skin, the way his arm was draped lazily around me as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I sat up slowly, grabbing my phone from the bedside table, and started scrolling through Pinterest, my mind wandering between pins of dream apartments and vacation spots. My body was still pressed against Davis's side, and even though I was distracted by the images on my screen, I couldn't help but feel this overwhelming sense of comfort being next to him. Everything about this moment felt right—the kind of right that's rare and hard to find.

I didn't usually feel this comfortable around men, not in this way. I'd been with guys before, but there was always this invisible wall I kept up, a protective layer that made sure I didn't get too close, didn't give too much of myself. But with Davis, those walls didn't seem to matter. He had this way of making me feel safe without even trying, like just being in his presence was enough to put me at ease.

I glanced up at him as he sparked the blunt, watching the way the flame danced at the tip before he took a slow, deep pull. His eyes closed slightly, his chest rising as he inhaled, and I could see the tension leave his body as the smoke filled his lungs. I smiled to myself, admiring the ease with which he moved, like every action was deliberate, unhurried.

He caught me looking at him, his lips curving into a small smile as he held the blunt between his fingers. "You wanna hit?" His voice was low and smooth, the kind of voice that made you want to lean in closer, like there was something secret in every word he spoke.

I nodded, feeling a flutter in my stomach that had nothing to do with the weed and everything to do with the way he was looking at me. There was something in his eyes—something warm, inviting, but still guarded in that Davis way. It made me curious, made me want to know more about what was going on behind that calm, cool exterior.

He brought the blunt to my lips, holding it steady as I took a long pull, the smoke filling my lungs. I held it in for a moment, letting it settle before exhaling slowly. The haze of the weed wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I could feel the edges of my thoughts start to blur, everything becoming a little softer, a little slower.

"You good?" he asked, still smiling, his eyes watching me like he was studying my reaction.

I nodded, exhaling another cloud of smoke before handing the blunt back to him. "Yeah," I said, my voice a little softer, a little more relaxed. "I'm good."

He took another hit, his fingers brushing mine as he passed the blunt back to me. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a small jolt through me, like my skin had become extra sensitive to every little thing he did. I leaned back against the pillows, trying to play it cool, but I couldn't shake the butterflies that had started to flutter in my stomach.