It's Just Us [🗸]

our nerves

ooh our nerves

***

WILL

James and I are in this weird place where we're definitely more than friends, but at the same time, we don't have an official title.

If we're at home alone, I can reach out and entangle our fingers together. I can lean against his side and nudge him gently. That's definitely more than friends, dangerously straying into boyfriend territory.

But I don't know whether James is ready. I mean, he isn't completely sure of his sexuality, and honestly, I can't say I'm desperate for a label, anyways. 

I don't want to pressure him. Ever. I glance down to where he's leaning against my side, scribbling something into his notebook as Netflix plays on the TV in front of us. My hand absentmindedly finds his curls, soft as they slide through my fingers.

I bite on my bottom lip, because my lips are twitching into a small grin as he holds his pen to his lips, tapping them gently, completely lost in his writing.

"Seems like your writing is going well," I say, lowly, and he looks up at me.

"Yeah, it is." He gives me a half smile that painfully tugs at my heartstrings. Fuck.

And he has no clue.

"You're looking at me like a creep," He points out, and I shake my head, quickly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I shoot back, trying to force my attention back to the screen.

"Right," James purses his lips, glancing up at me before glancing back at his notebook.

"Maybe you should take a break," I decide, raising my eyebrows at him.

"Or maybe I shouldn't. Seeing as Unspoken Voices is in a few weeks." He replies, mirroring my raised eyebrows.

"Come on," I groan, nudging him, "There are better things we can do."

"Like what?" He asks, but the faintest of smiles is dusting his lips.

"I don't know," I glance at him carefully.

 He places a marker in his notebook, setting it to the side of the table next to the couch we're sitting on. He leans back in the chair, runs a hand through his curls before taking a deep breath.

A grin appears on my face as I narrate his actions like a sports commentator. "Oh, this is different. What the fuck is James Perez-Jones going to do?" I raise a hand to my chest as my eyes widen for dramatic effect.

He leans closer to me, letting out a soft chuckle. "Um," his eyes flicker from my shirtless torso to my face, to my eyes. 

He shuffles closer to me, almost like he's about to make a move, but he's debating something with himself.