i wanted to do lighting & set the mood but i spent way too long trying to figure out how & now i’m just done lol
Simon and I settle together on the sofa with our drinks, a blanket, a book.
I’m full of warm feelings—partly from him, partly from rum. (It’s good, what he’s made me; I feel like I’ll already want another when it’s gone.) (I probably shouldn’t; my limbs are feeling light and heavy all at once, which I didn’t know was possible. But I can practically hear my mind quieting with every languid sip, can feel my shoulders untangling and dropping.) (My stomach’s dropping, too, with him sat here next to me like this.)
The blanket is off his bed. I think it’s one he brought with that night he showed me the stars, which absolutely makes sense but still feels like something terribly romantic, like he’s draping me in him, wrapping me up in him. (Cliché. Also completely unnecessary; I doubt I can be wrapped up in him further.)
The sofa’s not wide enough for us to stretch out side by side, and nearly every position we try ends in discomfort. We find that out after some struggle.
Simon laughs. “Here,” he says. “Lean back against the arm. I’ll go over here.”
So we’re mirroring each other, leant back against opposite arms, our legs tangling beneath the blanket.
He’s sipping his drink, watching me from over our knees and behind those cursed glasses. Heat rises in my cheeks and pools low in my belly, just from a look. (I reach for my drink on the end table behind me and take a sip, too.)
And then I open the book against my thighs.
—Between the Lines, chapter 19
this is the moment where i confirm that the four months i spent between chapters 19 & 20 resulted in me forgetting that the blanket on the sofa was off simon’s bed LMAO rip to consistency
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