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“It’s freezing outside,” you say. And no, you’re not lying this time. Sam always says you get cold too easy, that “it’s a sorry excuse to cuddle”, and, yeah, it’s true. But it really is cold out this time. You want to curl up against his chest right now, watching storm clouds roll across the slate-grey sky like the sea, and you pull the blanket farther up your chest until it’s tucked beneath your chin.
“Snow?” Sam asks happily. You roll onto your side, propping yourself onto one elbow, and catch Sam’s eye from a where he stands a few feet from the bed. He just tugged open a dresser drawer, and he’s sifting through piles of pajamas with a smile on his face. Nothing’s funny; your apartment is dark and a little damp and the heater just broke, so there’s no real reason for him to be smiling. But he still is. His dimples are digging into his cheeks and a warm look is making his sunflower eyes soft. He glances your way, gaze kind, blue-plaid sweats hanging from his hand. The low lamp light is painting his hair gold.
You smile, too. “Not yet.”
“Well-“ He crosses the space between the two of you in three long strides. The mattress creaks under his weight as he sits in front of you, and you watch breathlessly as he bends down to tug off his jeans. You get a strong, fast urge to trace the shadows cast by his cheeks, but somehow, you relent, and settle for the sight of it instead. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, huh?”
He drops his jeans onto to the floor with a soft thump; you try to avoid staring, (a valiant effort, really) and hide your eyes beneath the edge of the comforter- for his privacy of all things, you tell yourself, but you know you can’t let him see the way your cheeks burn red (“C’mon, you’re cute when you blush-!”). He hops artlessly into his pajamas- first the right leg, then the left, neatly tying the drawstring into a bow as you peek from beneath the blanket. You’re chewing your cheek with your eyes on the walls, still trying to recall the shape of his calves, when he cups your chin in his palms. You feel that thing again- that feeling, thick and heavy and warm, right in the center of your stomach. He runs his thumb along the bow of bottom lip, and your gazes connect with a shock of electricity as his smiles stretches into sunshine.
His voice is low and fond, and it makes your toes curl in your socks. “I’m up here.”
The kiss is slow and soft, and the longer it takes the lighter your head becomes. You don’t remember his hair that thick, or his hands that gentle, or his lips that soft, but rediscovering it all only makes it better, makes it real (yes, I’m here. Yes, Sam is here. Yes, yes, yes-). His lips taste like sugar, and your hands are almost too quick to thread in his hair. He pulls back with a smirk, tucking a piece of hair back behind your ear, and you’re caught between a frown and a smile because it was just like him to do this. “No one likes a tease,” you whine. But his laugh, his low laugh, sinks into your skin and soothes the ache in your chest. You turn till your back is settled against his chest, that feeling sweeping across your skin and singing through your veins. You light up like July as he wraps his arms tight and close around your waist and kisses the crook of your neck. He lets his lips linger there, humming happily, and for a second, you wish for one second that time would stop.
Your heart bump-bumps, and you feel words clog your throat for the third time that night. You dodge the nerve to bite your nails. “Sam,” you whisper. You feel him smile into your skin and nod, planting small kisses to the corner of your jaw; you sigh. “Mm?”
Your eyes are heavy; Sam is warm and solid and smells like the trees. Your sigh echoes in the silence. You track shadows bleeding through the windows as they dance across the walls, shifting and swirling like the storm clouds outside. Rain tap, taps on the roof, and you think you hear thunder crack in the distance, picturing the storm rearing up in the sky. It’s enough to nearly put you to sleep, but the words are still stinging your tongue.
Sam shifts behind you, moving his lips to your temple. Sparks erupt across your skin as he trails kisses from your cheek to the corner of your lips, sweeping his hands up your sides. “You okay?” he mumbles. He noses his way into your hair, and you smile again. His voice keeps luring you into sleep, but you’re fighting it. You have to make sure he knows, finally, at least once.
“I’m okay.” But your voice is small. You feel him tense up at the sound of it, and his hands pause halfway up your waist. You were expecting it, of course, but it still makes you frown. You turn around again, so you’re facing his chest, and you slip your hands under his shirt because it’s your turn to trace patterns into his skin. You’re sweeping your hands across his collarbones when he catches your chin again, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, and dammit, you whine again when he pulls away. Your hands find their way into his hair again; he’s nearly on top of you by now, heavy and solid and safe- real.
“Tell me,” he whispers. He sweeps his thumb across your cheeks, and you can’t find the strength in you to say no. You’re chewing your cheek again. The shadows shift in the corner, waving you forward. The rain patters on the roof like the tick of some ancient clock.
You build up the courage inside your chest, and before you can swallow it down again, the words spill out of your mouth.
“I- I think I love you.”
And it was out.
Time did seem to stop- just not when you wanted. The shadows hung in the air, holding their breath, and you half-expected the storm to split and shake the walls. But it didn’t. No thunder, no lightning, no boom. Just quiet.
The silence that was the scariest part.
Sam was slow to react. His jaw dropped a degree or two, lips rounding out into an o, and he sunk from his hands to his elbows. Your faces were close enough to see his irises shift from brown to green to gold, close enough to feel his breath with your own. You were nearly sure he could hear the beat of your heart echo through the air in time with the storm. And finally, there was a clap of thunder. It wasn’t loud, and it didn’t shake the walls, but it felt loud and distorted in the silence.
For a second, the fear was back, and it gripped you. The longer Sam stayed still, gaze dancing between your eyes, the surer you were it was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have said it, maybe he wasn’t ready, maybe you weren't ready, maybe-
He dipped down, and your thoughts were silenced.
You didn’t expect the force of the kiss, so you sank into the mattress a little, and your head spun because he wasn’t still anymore. His hands immediately wandered to your neck, knotting in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer. He didn’t hold the kiss for long, and you were ready to whine again, but kissed you, instead, over and over and over. He mumbled words into your skin as he worked his way down from your lips to your throat to your shoulders. “I-“ He laid kisses between your collarbones. “Love-“ He kissed your chin and the tip of your nose and both cheeks.
He pulled you closer again. He pressed a hand to the small of your back and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you upwards into him till you were flush to his chest. Your arms were around his neck now, and his hair was tickling your cheeks. His smell, his voice, he smile- it all overwhelmed you for a second. You thought you misunderstood the last word for a second. But he kissed you again. You sank into his arms. You sank into his smile. And you sighed.
“You.”