pretty, perfect jessica riley –– he counts himself lucky to even be sort of worthy of her love. she's talking about all the fun they'll have when they get to the washington lodge, as odd as it may be. his biggest fear is the awkwardness that is inevitable . . . but if she's excited for it, he can never tell her not to be. no, she's too passionate for him to ever dare to do that. he sprawls out further on the bed, long limbs stretching until joints quietly pop. he registers her saying, we can have snowball fights, and can't help the smile that prompts to tug at his tiers.
yeah, they can definitely do that. he'd also like to make snow angels, he thinks –– snow angels with his angel . . . that sounds like a plan. mike shifts to sit up, to regard her with a meek fondness. the expression she holds is exuberant, bright and something he can't quite place; he's just glad that at least someone is excited for the trip. it makes himd read it less, after what happened in the most recent past. jess continues to talk, and he tips his head to the side. " you're right, jess. it will be fun for us, despite everything. " they'll be together; that's all he can ask for.
hands reach for her visage as she continues, to draw her close, to press a kiss against parted tiers as if he's trying to swallow all of her excitement. he just might be, hoping that it'll infect him so he can look forward to the trip in the same way. another kiss, a second, a third –– he loses track for a moment, allowing the bliss of it all to wipe away his anxiety. he settles into the comfortable, endearing memory of her words, and the softness of the resulting silence.
