You heard the shuffle of bare feet on the tile behind you and looked up to see Sam in the doorway. He paused at the threshold.
“Hey,” he said, brushing a hand back through his long hair. “You’re still up. I thought maybe you had already gone to bed.”
You gave him a small smile, straightening up from the file in front of you. “I’m still up.”
He looked a little unsure of what to say next, but he wandered a few steps closer and his eyes fell on the papers in front of you. “Still working?” he said.
You nodded and turned back to stare at your page of scribbled notes. “Yeah. Just hoping something jumps out at me.”
Sam considered you quietly. Your eyelashes fluttered as you read your own scrawling handwriting for what must have been the thousandth time. “I’m sure it will,” he said gently. There was a pink glow in your cheeks, most likely from the cup of hot tea sitting close at hand, wafting spirals of steam into the air.
You turned your eyes back to Sam and felt a flutter in your chest at the warmth you saw in his eyes, so focused on you. “Thanks, Sam.” He only continued to peer at you, his lips parting as if he was about to speak but he ended up only letting out a slightly nervous (and very endearing) laugh.
“Right…” he anxiously rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, unsure of anything else worthwhile to say to you. “Well, I’ll let you get back to–yeah…” He cleared his throat awkwardly and you puzzled at his nervousness doing your best to put him at ease with a kind smile.
“RIght,” you said, nodding. “…So, you’re heading to bed then?” You said, thinking how this had become an unexpected new routine with the two of you.
“Yeah. Yeah,” he nodded, not entirely ready to take his eyes off you, but knowing he had nothing left to say. “Goodnight,” he added, giving you another smile. He breezed out of the room before you could reply and you were forced to give your ‘goodnight’ to the empty kitchen and the gentle currents of empty air left in his wake.