☾balance

Last night a tall, crazy haired boy in blue jeans and a blue unbuttoned collared shirt made you dinner. He poured you a glass of wine, and looked at you through his very round glasses, as if you were the sunset that you had both decided not to watch because of the cold. 

He asked you about your day, told you about his gran, stopped his words in their tracks when you kissed his neck, and smiled to himself whenever you brushed his arm with yours.

You sat together, effortlessly finishing a bottle of white wine, your legs resting on his lap. You sat together talking about music, and he told you about the history of rock metal and you listened as though he was reciting Shakespeare. You sat talking and when he stole a kiss in the middle of your sentence, you felt your entire spine turn to rubber and your face flush hot, and your stomach flip off the diving board.

And this morning he pulled himself out of warm covers and your tangled limbs, to make you breakfast. He made enough for your roommate too.

And he called the guest parking spot outside your front door his own. 

And he stopped himself mid-sentence to look at you with a sigh and say “you look so pretty. wow.”

And he put his hands to your face outside your front door, and pulled you in for a kiss so gentle, but so wonderful that your glasses almost fell off the top of your head.