The slippered feet stood at the end of the bed for what seemed like forever. You kept your hands over your mouth to silence your breathing. You didn't want to get found. Not while hiding under Wades bed.
As you waited for the right opportunity to high tail your ass out of there, his feet walked through another door that you assumed was an attached bathroom. The door closed and you heard water being turned on. You exhaled and began wiggling your way out from under the bed.
You crawled your way to the door, but something caught you off gaurd. In the middle of a stack of books, you see something familiar. You looked at the bathroom door, it was still closed. You slide to the stack, carefully pulling out a zebra printed book. An album.
You flipped through it, seeing pictures of old memories. You, Wade, and old friends filled the pages. Some had little quotes underneath about friendship, love and happiness. You stop when you find one of you and Wade.
He was starring at you as you were making hotdogs on a campfire. The type of starring that only lovers can produce. You purse your lips. Why did he have this? This was from years ago. The feelings captured in this picture are gone in the picture you were looking at, back at your office, however long ago that was.
You don't know how long you were standing there, studying the picture but you hear the bathroom door open.
"(Y/N)? What are you doing in here?" Wade asked, wet and wrapped in a towel.
