He looked at her, draped across his lap in the back seat of his truck. He looked at her with such fire, as if it physically pained him not to completely devour her. Brushing the tips of his fingers up the length of her arm.
0639 am Rolling out of the hotel bed, still feeling the sting from the night before. The Jim Beam peach still lingers in her mouth. No amount of alcohol has been able to drown him out. The more she drinks the clearer his face becomes in her mind. One shot turns into a 2 am beach front conversation with a stranger about him.
0822 am The way he looks at her will never cease to leave her with a longing she has never felt before. This morning is no exception. The slow spread of a smile and the softness that washes over him, dismantling the hard exterior he tries so hard to maintain, and he does maintain it with everyone….everyone except her.
1005 am Do they notice the lack of distance between them? He has mainted a consistent amount of physical contact since they sat down for breakfast. Almost as if he feels the same ache as she does, the perpetual pull of electricity between them, insistening the only appropriate distance between them is no distance.
She likes him best this way….laughing, surrounded by friends, next to her. A kind of happy she hasn’t seen from him before. A kind of happiness she hasn’t felt before. A state of grace created by how beautifully each of thier broken pieces fit together.
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