Say you'll stay - Channing Tatum

P.28

The sheets feel smooth under my fingertips as I let them trace a crease that has formed in the fabric. I smile at the sensation blending together with the warmth under the covers.

Slowly opening my eyes I discern a cluster of buildings in black and white, a city wiped of its color. For a second I think I'm falling, but quickly realize that I'm laying in bed, only inches away from the clear glass that's separating me from the world outside.

I blink a few times and let my eyes adjust to the brightness before the colors all return.

The sky almost resembles a painting by the shades of blue and pink that are as chosen to blend together. I'm surprised it isn't grey outside with rain pouring heavily from dense clouds, considering how the weather has been for weeks.

A sharp inhale is suddenly heard from behind me, breaking the earlier steady rhythm of his breathing before a deep exhale follows, the air lightly fanning over the nape of my neck. A lazy smile shapes my lips as I'm reminded of how yesterday ended.

I hadn't forgotten that he was here and I probably never could either. He's been laying close, every one of his breaths being felt against my skin. Although the last minutes before crawling into bed held an almost unberable intensity, we did nothing more than breathe in sync. Not as much as an innocent touch was exchanged under the cover, but the heat radiating of his body was more than enough to make me aware of his presence.

I close my eyes for a brief moment and my mind travels back to what happened before that.
The way I reacted when he told me they were done and how he evidently seemed pleased when I decided he spoke the truth. I may have surprised him by my reaction, but I was surprised by his too. I don't know if his small smile was an act of empathy, or if he genuinely was happy.

In all honesty, I myself, didn't know that I felt this way.

I'm not saying that I've fallen deeply in love or that I'm now suddenly wanting something that I probably can't even have, far from it, but I can no longer look at him, let alone think of him, as just.. a friend.

As if trying to pry myself from my thoughts, I shake my head lightly and carefully turn in my place. Having these feelings aren't appropriate, for multiple reasons.

I open my eyes awfully slowly, as if afraid I'd wake him if I did it too fast. The sight I am met by causes my breath to get stuck halfway through.

He is facing me. His head heavily sunken down into the white pillow and his hair now messy from the hours of sleeping. Due to the sun making an appearance from behind the clouds, he is casted by a golden light that makes him appear inhuman.

In fact, the whole room is taking advantage of the golden hour, but never have it looked so awfully dull as it now does, compared to him.

The tiny freckles that are mindlessly shattered over his face catches my attention once again. They are a shade or two darker than the rest of his skin, making them subtle and inconspicuous, but nonetheless fascinating.

I never thought of them before yesterday when I realized he had them. Now I can't unsee them.

My eyes wander down to his full lips and I find myself wondering what they would feel like against my own. I imagine them feeling soft to the touch and moving slowly, painfully slow, when in a kiss.

My focus shift when I notice that a strand of hair has fallen over his forehead, just like yesterday. It's seems to be untameable, this piece of hair. It keeps on separating from the rest, begging for attention. I bring my hand up to his forehead and carefully move it out of his face, my fingertips gently grazing over his skin as I do so. The tiny amount of contact that's shared in those two seconds brings warmth throughout my body and I want to feel it again.