‘No one makes me feel the way you do,’ she says into his chest, her voice muffled by his t-shirt, arms entwined in the twilight evening.
He laughs a little, runs his fingers through her hair, and looks up at the brightness of the stars, waiting for her to continue.
'It’s all your fault. When I see you in the mornings and your eyes are sleepy and your hair is still ruffled; when your roll up your shirtsleeves, or lean back and show off that bit of skin above your Calvins; when I look up from working and catch you looking at me as well, and the way you wink and carry on answering the question as if you weren’t reaching for my hand under the table that very minute- I’m incapable of anything other than longing for your touch, for it just to be me and you in that room, forever.’
He looks down then, smiles his beautiful lazy golden smile, and leans in even closer to whisper into her honeycomb curls.
'Oh, you don’t quite understand what you do to me either. You do the most incredible things to my heart, you can’t quite understand.’
— j.f // and a new love is budding, built on a broken heart and golden smile • excerpts of stories I will never wrote @alotofunansweredquestions