Annabelle is uncomfortable once we get seated in the restaurant, even though I have reassured her for hundred times on our way to Winter River.

"How many times do I need to tell you that you do not look ugly or weird?" I groan as I'm looking over the menu. I don't need to have my eyes on her to know that she keeps menacing about looking like a troll compared to others in the restaurant.

"I look like an orphan you took mercy on."

Oh, wow!

I drop the menu down and wait for her to look up. She finally does so and lowers the offer of meals as she does that.

I honestly... don't even know what to say. I think my face is saying enough, plus I've told her I don't know how many times that despite everything she looks lovely.

Yet, it seems all those words were for nothing at all because she says: "Yeah, well, it's true!"

I sigh and for a second pinch the bridge of my nose, "You look good, Annabelle. Look, I'm not wearing any makeup, but that doesn't mean I escaped from an orphanage."

She rolls her eyes like I'm such a typical man that definitely wouldn't get it, that what she is saying is a universal truth and I can't seem to grasp it with my limited man brain. "Just think about one thing for me. Isn't it better to look at a smoking hot lady than, as I've pointed out, an orphan!"

"Okay, first of all, you do not look like an orphan. You're pretty!" But of course, she won't believe that! What she'll have as an excuse is probably that I've slept with her so many times that I'm in a way obligated to say that. "And honestly, I don't know what kind of men do you know that have made you feel this insecure about not wearing makeup?"

"I've met enough men to know you like it when a girl is pretty."

"And who said you're not pretty without makeup?" I argue back, literally getting pissed off by this.

She has worn no makeup to the strolls with Devon before, and I doubt she wears makeup when she goes groceries shopping. We all have our own insecurities, but she really shouldn't be feeling this way while we're here, dining out. She's with me. I've told her on multiple occasions that she is hella pretty.

"Annabelle," I wait for her to look at me, so she'll know I mean that with every bit of me, "Makeup is fine. Yes, it can conceal many insecurities and it can make someone look prettier. I don't know what your guys told you, Mason or Dominico, but men - real men - don't care about that as long as you don't look scruffy or ratty, insalubrious if you will. When a man wants to spend time with you and wants to spend it talking to you and enjoying your company, it's not because you're either wearing or not wearing mascara, but because you intrigue him as a person."

Oof, that felt like a damn monologue from Shakespeare that just keeps dragging on for ages and pages.

To answer the question what is prettier, personally, I find the woman the prettiest when she wakes up in the morning when her hair is all ruffled, she's blinking and cringing at the light, and when she needs a minute or two to get up from the bed and just piece herself together. It's the purest sight. And guess what - no makeup involved!

All jokes aside, I hope she will understand it now. And who would she even be trying to impress? I just think of her during the performance and my knees shiver, she clearly doesn't have to work on me anymore - land officially conquered.

"Neither of them was like that. Both of them were very nice."

Who?

Oh, right, those two. Besides her father and Austin, these two are the only ones for whom I know are in Annabelle's life - Mason and Dominico.

So, what I've gathered from here is that... Dominico is a good guy? Maybe he did charm her! 'Cause I can understand why she would say the same thing about Mason, she didn't just spend six years with him because he'd be a dick. And she wouldn't speak so fondly of him if he had been a brute.

Whether I like it or not, Mason was probably a good boyfriend. But Annabelle was an even better girlfriend - loving, supportive, prepared to make a relationship work. He clearly made her very happy, or that's at least what I gathered from the pictures in the apartment and the way she talks about him.

I just don't like how Dominico is in the picture here!

"Then why are you insecure about it?"

If Mason was obviously such a devoted guy that liked her for her and not a golden eyeshadow, then this just makes even less sense. He must've made her feel good whether she had any makeup on or nothing at all. Dominico I mentioned here out of completely different reasons, he barely qualifies as someone that could affect her - hopefully.

She shifts in her seat, and I can only guess she hates talking about being insecure. I mean, like anyone gets the kicks from doing that, but there are some people that are just so terribly needy of whining and the follow-up praise. I'm just gonna say I relate to her. Why the hell should anyone know you're insecure about something? People either want to use it against you, or they're happy you're going through shit.

"We're all insecure about something. Even you must have a weak spot."

We're not talking about that.

"Sure, we do. But insecurities are gained through a social environment, and you tell me no one has ever told you you look ugly without makeup."

"I didn't say that. I just said that Mason and Dominico weren't like that."

Who the hell would have her for an ugly person? She's absolutely delightful in every way. It could be that that's the problem. Bitches be envious.

I'm gonna push my luck! "I know what happened with Mason, but you seem very dismissive of Dominico."

But by all means, Annabelle, continue with that attitude.

The waiter tags along, ready to take our orders now! I want to tell him to fuck off because it's now that we're getting to the topic I need to know everything about.

We've been talking about makeup and insecurities, but this doucheface didn't think of asking us about food then! No! He comes now and tears apart the web of conversation I've mended for Annabelle so she would tell me stuff instead of getting suspicious! If she derails, which she probably will, when this fucker fucks off, I'll have to start all over again, but it would make me look like an obsessive freak.

A bit confused, Annabelle looks at the waiter and then back at the menu, like she has to check if she memorised the meal she wants correctly. She points at it and looks back at him: "I'd like the roasted halibut with butternut squash puree and Brussel sprouts, please."

He smiles widely at her and as he says: "An excellent choice, Miss.", he even leans closer to her.

You can excellently fuck off!

Then he turns to me, the smile a bit faker than before. "And you, sir?"

See, Annabelle, you don't need makeup at all.

"The sixth."

BE-GONE!

He notes that down and finally leaves us alone. Is he demented or something? We have two menus and he needs to write it down? Does he think that makes him look smart in Annabelle's eyes?

"What's the sixth one?"

Yep, she derailed. Great.

"Roasted duck breast with creamy kale and apple cider glaze."

"Ooh! Nice! I noticed that you often eat poultry breast."

"I guess. But you already know that I like breasts."

Annabelle snorts real quick, but the humorous twinkle in her eyes lingers for a bit longer. She closes the menu and sets it on the edge of the table, and sighs, "I don't know what to tell you, though. About Dominico."

My attention completely shifts to her, since before that I was brooding over how to ask her about him again without looking suspicious. If I were a dog with sloped ears, those would be completely perked up in her direction.

"He's a good guy, but..." she trails off and starts menacing. That on its own says more than any kind of words she's trying to use. "It's not it, you know? And the date was a bit of a struggle if I'm honest. He's perfectly fine and he's a sweet guy, but it's like he was trying too hard to impress me, or that now that we're here it's a given we're attracted to each other. It killed all the time that could've maybe been there. That probably makes me sound like a real bitch, but I can't see myself going on another date with him."

That... is such damn terrific news!

If it were culturally acceptable to run to the bathroom right now just so I could scream and cheer in victory, I would do that, but since it wouldn't be the nicest thing to do to Annabelle, I stay in my seat, trying to stop the vibrations of excitement to myself only.

"You just... can't hit it off with some people, yeah." It takes a magnetic personality for that, Dominico!

"Yeah, exactly." Everything she says is simply music to my ears. She keeps explaining why Dominico just isn't someone for her. "You know I look at my parents and see how comfortable and in sync they are with each other. They've always been. I had that with Mason, so I know how it feels. And even though Dominico was sweet, it just wasn't it. When he escorted me home and tried to kiss me, I panicked and dodged like I was desperate to escape from him. I must've traumatised him."

Even I hiss at that, and I'm the one that hope she would tell him off, but that shit is painful. Nonetheless, there's this evil Disney villain part of me that's grinning like the Grinch, pleased with this emotional scarring. The poor guy will probably remember this for life. And so he should! Not just anyone can drool over my... I mean, drool over her.

"I don't know, I always looked up to my parents. I want to have something similar to what they have." She hides her face behind her hands in embarrassment. I don't know what's embarrassing about that. It just means she grew up in a family where parents had a healthy relationship. There's nothing wrong or unrealistic in trying to pursue that.

"I can't say I can relate to that." If there's anything I don't want, it's meeting and being married to a woman that's like my mother. If I had a nightmare about that, I'm sure I'd wake up screaming and completely covered in sweat. The thing is that my mother turned into this... neglectful bitch, to put it mildly, after ten years of being with my dad, if not more. So, yeah, I'm perfectly fine being alone.

Annabelle takes a sip of wine the waiter dropped off while I was busy cringing at the dodge-the-kiss challenge Annabelle thought of. "I kinda guessed that. But what about the relationship between your father and stepmother? They seem very committed to each other."

"Because Deidre is amazing. My mother not so much." But you can say more about what you don't like about Dominico, Annabelle.

She smiles lightly and thankfully doesn't pry on why I hate my mother so much. I think she's given up, or she isn't comfortable with asking me things that are as personal as this. "You seem to be very fond of her."

"You've met her. Is there anything not to like?" Besides, if we were to stay with dad and her, everything would have been different. In a good way, of course.

"She sure is enigmatic. But Daniel and May don't exactly share your feelings about her."

"Eh, who even knows what May is feeling," I say when I see the waiter coming this way with our food, and leave what I actually wanted to say for when he leaves. Meanwhile, I take my time with the meal, and before cutting off a piece of my duck, I tell her: "Daniel and May met Deidre when they were 5 and 7. They liked her because she was nice, and not an evil step-mother, though... May had her conspiracy theories about her because of Cinderella. I was 9 when I met her, and she was both affectionate and supportive towards me, so I guess that's why-"

She interrupts me with big, wide eyes, and a loud cutish aw. "Aw! You had a crush on her!"

I sigh, but... the way she says it and the way she reacts to that makes this whole thing a bit less embarrassing. I nod in confirmation and chuckle nervously. I don't think I ever told anyone about that, I don't think anyone ever noticed it either. "A major crush. It went on for years."

Annabelle eyes me in a ridiculously adorable way like she sees me in a different manner. Well, I was a little boy too once, I wasn't just born a stud. Hell, God knows that I wasn't born one. "I can just imagine a young and small bean Nathan blushing at his radiant stepmother. It's so cute!"

"Why do people find a boy fantasising about his stepmother cute and adorable?"

Rolling her eyes, but smiling all the while, her voice of excitement drops. "Of course, ruin it with your heightened sexuality."

Heightened sexuality. Okay.

"Okay, now, what do you think I did when I saw Deidre coming right from under the shower with a towel wrapped around her? Sigh and continue daydreaming? I was a growing boy, Annabelle, I was all over the place."

Annabelle groans and gives me a death stare, but not as intense one as the one Deidre gave dad earlier this evening. "But you were just really attracted to her, it's not like you expected anything."

I mean... I was jealous of my dad for a while...

"Aaaand," she starts, her tone kind of careful, like she is just trying to imply a simple thing, "given your relationship with your mother... No wonder you liked her."

Thank you, Dr Freud.

I think she wisely ignores my silence. It's not that I don't agree with her, Deidre is in many ways more like a mum, unlike my mother. There's a difference between being a mother and being a mum.

"Why didn't you stay with them then?"

Every muscle in my body tenses, which she notices. How do I know? I can see how her eyes run to my shoulders and her entire face expressing momentarily changes. I want her to say that I don't have to tell her, that it's fine if I keep it to myself, but she doesn't. I don't want to be the one to say I'm not going to tell her anything.

I clear my throat first, which is just a habit of mine - it's something I used to do before I got rid of my speak deficiency. I try to sum it up in the fewest words possible. "The court decided so. My parents weren't up for shared custody, so... Yeah. The court thought we'd be better off with my mum." This just proves that because you gave birth to children doesn't mean you're a better parent.

"Oh..." she sighs like she has expected to hear something far worse. I guess it could be worse, but my mother dragging along a fancy lawyer she used to see, a lawyer that defended giant corporations every week and fucking won, is a bad enough detail. "I thought your dad didn't want you or something like that."

"No, he did try."

But, nonetheless, my mother became a single mother, and she received funds for that. Maybe it's a bit of a farfetched theory that our mother would use us as a means of income, but honestly, I wouldn't be surprised. It would suck to know that, but my belief of her being such a shit mother would only strengthen.

Annabelle gazes at me with somehow saddened eyes. She clearly wants to know more, she wants to understand why I dislike talking about this, but she doesn't push further. It's kind of of a relief because if there's something I don't talk about is my relationship with my mother. Just thinking about it pisses me off so much that I want to go out on the street and pick up a fight with a random stranger just so I could punch someone in the face. Talking about it only multiplies this feeling.

"But look, I could've become a junkie and blame it all on this so-called tragedy of my life. People divorce, it's not uncommon."

She focuses on her plate and stares at it for a couple of moments. "It obviously hurt you. That's what matters, and not whether something is an uncommon thing or not."

"First of all, I'm past that. It sucked when I was of that age, but now I've put it behind. I don't dwell on the past. My life is figured out. And second of all, we're here to celebrate your evening."

Now, drop it!

Her lips pull into a wide smile, but she is reluctant to actually reach for the glass and properly celebrate it.

"Come on!" I encourage her and with heavy heart lift my glass of water. I want her to absolutely and undeniably happy tonight, and I remember every single judging glance she gave me when I drove and had a bottle of beer, so... Yeah, 0,0 driver tonight. "It's your big night. And I sincerely doubt I was the only one impressed by the performance."

Hesitantly, but surely she reaches for her glass of wine. It's interesting how she achieves amazing results and remains so, not humble, but properly insecure about herself.

She eyes my glass, and despite the connotation of gratitude, she says: "You're not gonna toast with me with a glass of water, are you?"

"I'm driving." But once I get home, I'm sure as hell gonna have a glass.

"I insist!" Annabelle grins and proudly, yet theatrically lifts her glass, waiting for mine.

Seeing her like this after trying to convince her to even cling our glasses in her honour and outstanding performance, just makes her even more charming.

"Hm... You sure you won't be mad?" This isn't some kind of a test, right? If I happen to drink a glass, she won't start screaming at me for being irresponsible, or...? I mean, no, she wouldn't. Annabelle is not a psychopath. She can do something much worse, she can just give me a look that clearly says: I'm disappointed by you.

"I'm sure. Your intention says enough on its own, and I trust you. Besides, it's just one glass."

I guess I've impressed her as well.

She doesn't have to tell me twice. I drink the water quickly - stay hydrated and all that - and pour in some good red wine. I don't particularly enjoy wine too much, but when there are special occasions like this one, I gladly drink it.

"So." Our eyes lock as I say that, and it's the weirdest of feelings. We've had eye contact before and it never quite felt like that. It's like the table and this distance between us is shrinking. "To you, Annabelle. For awakening the cold and stone-hearted engineer with your gracefulness."

She giggles, and she does so loudly. A few people actually look our way, but they dismiss it almost immediately. They probably see us as two kids that haven't been to a real restaurant before.

We cling our glasses, and before she takes a sip, she says quietly but clearly: "You're a charmer."

***

We all know how that story with 'just one glass' ended. It wasn't exactly just one glass. It sure started with just one, but well, I think it's very obvious I didn't stop there. I think this logically explains that Annabelle didn't have just one glass either. She had a few more than me, actually quite a few more than just a few. She's properly tipsy with red cheeks and lots of giggling.

Since she's feeling this jolly and I'm not exactly that much better, we go to my place because it's fairly close to the restaurant and the safest option.

I just... I just hope she won't mind sleeping in the same bed as me. I just really want to cuddle up to someone right now. If she won't be up for it... Well, I don't know, I didn't get past that part yet, but I'll just give her more to drink, knock her out, and squeeze in next to her.

Wow...

Am I considering getting her drunk so I could just sleep next to her? Aren't I adorable? Who even am I?

I don't think I ever got a girl drunk to have sex with her, except Patty - if she had something to drink, she got freaky as hell.

We're in the elevator, riding up, and she casually leans her head on my shoulder. She tries to do that. My shoulder is a little bit higher up, but she finds my biceps comfy just as well.

She sighs lightly and tiredly, then without raising her head or pulling back, she mumbles: "You know... you're very tall."

Leaning back against the wall of the elevator, I snort a little. "I'm around average height, Annabelle." I think I'm maybe an inch above average.

"I disagree," she mumbles sleepily, and by then we get to exit the elevator and head to my apartment.

The entire hallway is empty and completely quiet, which is weird because it's Saturday and not really that late. It's not even midnight. Annabelle and I being in the hallway is like dropping a spoon in the kitchen at 3 am. But then I rattle around with my keys trying to find the right one, and I'm pretty sure one of the neighbours is going to come running out with an axe to silence me for good. They'd probably let Annabelle live, she's pretty.

Like this is her home, Annabelle strolls into the apartment and starts taking off her shoes, while walking towards the bedroom. Would it be weird if I just go after her and drop into bed next to her? Jesus, this is my apartment and I'm the nervous one where I'm going to sleep.

"Nathan?" She calls for me, while I'm overthinking every single thing in the living room, primarily worried about trying to make this work smoothly.

"Yeah?"

She peeks from the door, stretching out her hand that's holding one of my shirts, while she seems to have lost her pants. "Can I borrow this for tonight?"

I literally can't look at anything but your thighs right now. "Uhm, yeah, of course."

"Thank you!" She squeals and disappears behind my bedroom door again.

Why... Why can I walk up to any girl in the bar, grab her ass if need be, and get to have sex with her, but I can't ask her if we can just share a bed? My bed!

She comes out moments later, my shirt looking extremely oversized on her, it's a look only girls and women can pull off.

While she's messing her hair a bit and taking out some random clips, I didn't even know were there, she smiles lazily. "Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. And I think this outfit suits me!"

I get a giant lump in my throat, and I just end up smiling like an idiot that doesn't really understand a couple of things about life.

Looking left and looking right, quite comically pulled off, she then looks at me and whispers: "Why are we standing in the middle of the living room?"

I don't know... I just want to cuddle.

"I-uhm..." What do I even tell her? Asking her if that's fine would be weird but at the same time the only right and normal thing to do, definitely much better than just standing here. I need to think of something quick. She's looking at me weirdly. I think I'm freaking her out. Literally anything will do! "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Not... anything.

A bit surprised, confused and quite taken aback, she narrows her eyes for a split second. "O-kay? Maybe go to the bathroom, then?"

"Yeah!" I'm way too loud. Just way, way, way too loud.

"Aha...?" She nods in my way, and I don't even get it at first like she's the weird one for nodding at me when obviously I'm the fucking weirdo because I just keep standing there!

"I'll be," I point in the direction of the bathroom, "on my way."

I think that's when she finally thinks about not having me for a complete weirdo right now. When I finally get in the bathroom and I close the door, I get a flashback from a couple of days before when I was literally hiding from her.

What is happening? I had no problem kissing her before. I pounced her like a cat and did it on the desk with her. But now I can't fucking ask her if it's okay that I sleep in my bed next to her?

This bathroom is doing something to me. It's like it's my fortress where the Annabelles can't get me. Except that I'm the one complicating things for myself.

When I'm out looking for a hookup, I know immediately if a girl is at least a tiny bit interested in me. Annabelle literally leaned her shoulder on me, and I don't know what the fuck do I do.

The most logical and the nicest thing to do would be to ask her if she wouldn't mind, no matter how awkward that would prove to be. I don't want to look like a self-entitled douchebag, so I guess this is what I need to do.

First I take a piss, it would be hella weird if I just returned from the bathroom and needed to go back again. She could assume I have prostate problems or that I've officially lost my mind.

Fine. I'm going to ask her. I guess having sex with someone is different than trying to cuddle up to a person.

The bedroom door is open there's a lot of commotion going on in there. Good. If she's busy, maybe she won't question the unusual nature of my request.

The moment I appear in the bedroom and gain the courage to say something to her, she beats me to it while she's beating the covers. "You know, whenever I was at Mason's or some other guy's place, their covers would have no scent at all. But yours just smell so good! What kind of a softener do you use?"

I don't know, the one that smells good to me. "I don't know. I'm just really wasteful when it comes to softeners." I like it when things smell like spring morning or oriental dream.

"A true American by heart, then?" She smiles and gives me a quick sideways glance. She lets the cover rest when she's done wailing around with it, and peers at me strangely. "Why are you still in the suit? Even James Bond doesn't sleep in a tuxedo."

"I-I know." How can I make this not weird? I think I'm already making it by just standing there, fully dressed and silent like a helpless puppy.

Annabelle takes a step or two back then runs and jumps onto the bed, into the covers she's been mending and beating earlier. When she lands on the bed, she giggles. I guess she really is drunk. Well, no matter. It's attractive on a whole new level to see her this playful and girlish.

"Why are you just standing there?" She asks when she's done giggling to herself.

I'm questioning life, Annabelle.

She lifts herself up on her elbows and looks at the empty half of the bed, the place where I'd like to be now, but can't even say a simple thing to her even less ask her if she wouldn't mind.

"Just come to bed."

Wait...

"You... wouldn't mind?" That... took way more effort to say it than I have ever imagined. I have slapped and squeezed her ass before, and this was the hardest thing I've done.

"Why would I?" She completely sits up and pulls the shirt over her thighs a bit more. "We've slept in the same bed before and it's not like you're a demon that will rape me at night or start groping me. Wait, were you actually worried about that?"

Yes... I actually was.

I shift uncomfortably with my hands in my pockets, when she grins widely, tilting her head to the side, and starts marching around the bed on her knees. "That's so sweet of you, you know?"

If it is anything, it's retarded. I don't even recognise myself. This really wasn't a big deal, but for some reason, I completely shat in my pants just thinking about it. And this is Annabelle we're talking about. She is not uptight, like... a very specific sister of hers is. She's been more or less pretty carefree around me, and I was here worried that this would somehow push her away. And... this is Annabelle we're talking about. I don't want to do something she would find off-putting.

When I take off the jacket, her march ends when she reaches the edge and she gets up. "Mkay, let's get you into bed. You seem to be too embarrassed to do it yourself."

Wow, we got a real comedian over here.

"Funny!" I mutter at her, but all I get in return is a smile, the bubbly smile.

With her hands, she reaches up to my shirt and starts unbuttoning it. It's... not something I expected when she said she's gonna get me into bed, but I'm not complaining, despite the fact that it takes her a bit longer to separate the buttons from the holes.

"How do you usually sleep?" She asks completely serious. I guess she wants to know that because she's undressing me like I'm her baby.

I'm a funny guy too, Annabelle! "Naked."

Her eyes shoot up to my face, and I just amusingly lift my brows at her. Humorously she narrows her eyes, then looks back at what she's doing with my shirt and mumbles carelessly: "Fine, I don't mind. I've seen you naked before."

"Are you sure you can take it? A guy like me naked next to you all night long?"

She giggles loudly, then tries to suppress her smile, which in my opinion she shouldn't do because her smile is extremely beautiful. "You're the exposed one. Are you sure you can take sleeping naked next to a girl like me all night long? You know, without getting excited?"

"I guess we'll find out. You nervous about it?"

"No, not at all. I know you're not either, you're just embarrassed," says Annabelle while giggling softly.

Yeah, well...

She finally spreads my shirt and takes a step back to admire her work. Or... to admire me, whichever it is.

Just the way she is looking at me right now is making me a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. In normal circumstances, I'd have pounced her like a tiger at this point, but I'm just feeling strange with her looking at me being shirtless.

"Being around someone as pretty as you are, does that to me, apparently."

I... did not mean to say that out loud. I guess I kinda did, I suppose. She should know I think she's pretty, but this is just so cheesy and ugh, I need to learn how to separate my thoughts from the things I say. I thought I had it figured out, but the way her playfulness drains from her face the moment I say it, I find it clear I need to work on it more.

The first thing she says, after this abnormal thing I just said while trying to hide my chest behind the shirt like a little virgin boy, takes me by surprise more than her giggling and jumping in the bed, or her leaning her head on my shoulder. "Would it be okay if... we cuddled a little?"

She wants to cuddle? With me? Did I understand it right? She didn't say something like gaggle, right? I don't know in what context she would say that, but...

Yeah, I want to cuddle...

After a moment of silence, which I need in order to process what she just asked of me, she quickly turns completely red. The dark blush covers not only her cheeks but also her neck, her ears, her forehead and every other part of the fair skin she has a ginger.

You're so embarrassed you're really blushing right now, aren't you?

"Actually-" I try to say that I'd love to cuddle with her tonight, which sounds weird when I say it like that, but she cuts me off, probably expecting some sort of rejection from me.

She runs to explain herself, her tongue just starts tumbling over the words. "I know it's not your thing, and I'm not trying to hint at anything!"

"Annabelle, can you just-"

She doesn't listen to me and just continues talking in a rush. "It's just that cuddling is nice by itself."

Annabelle, stop. "I agree, look-"

"It's okay if you're not comfortable doing it. We're all uncomfortable with some things, and I know that you don't want to make it weird between us, I don't want to do that, either..."

She continues to talk, a part of me just stops listening to her because I'm completely overheating. I can't think about what she's saying, how to stop her, even though she is so adorable right now being as embarrassed as I was earlier, and how do I... prove my point to her.

"... I'm not gonna be mad or anything! All you gotta do is just tell me that you don't want it, and I'll completely understand, you know, it's a normal thing to do, and I wouldn't hold it against you, I just thought that after tonight..."

Her mumbling continues, it looks like she's running out of air, and at one point I take a deep breath. My entire body tenses up when I look at her from the side, talking like crazy.

"Just stop talking." I cut her off, take that one step that separates me from her, and lean down to her lips, finally gathering enough courage to properly kiss her.

A/N: I hope I left this chapter on a good enough note so we'll all survive while I'm off to study for the exams. I have my last exam on February 15th, so you can expect me to return with these two fools in the second half of the month.

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