He was sitting beside me on the couch, his laptop balanced on his knees as he scrolled through photos from his latest hiking trip. I could hear him explaining each one, the excitement in his voice rising and falling with every new memory, but I wasn’t really listening. Not fully, at least.
It wasn’t the photos that had my attention. It was the way his eyes seemed to light up when he looked at me, like I was the most interesting thing in the room, not the mountains he was so proud of conquering. I’d seen that spark before, but tonight it felt different. Closer. Warmer.
“...and this one, we nearly lost the trail,” he was saying, pointing at a blurry photo of trees and shadows. “But it was worth it. Look at that view.”
I nodded, but my gaze wasn’t on the laptop screen. It was on him. His profile in the soft glow of the screen, the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips whenever he caught me looking.
He turned his head then, catching me off guard. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the laptop and the steady beat of my heart, which suddenly felt louder than it should.
“What?” he asked, his smile widening, a little teasing but mostly curious. “You’re not even looking at the photos.”
I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, my own smile forming without even trying. “I was just... watching you. You seem really happy talking about this.”
He tilted his head, as if he hadn’t realized it himself. “I guess I am,” he admitted, his voice soft now. “It’s just… I like sharing things with you. Makes it more fun.”
His words hung in the air between us, gentle and sincere, and I could feel something shift. I wasn’t sure if he felt it too, but the way his gaze softened, the way his hand shifted closer to mine on the couch, told me that maybe he did.
I reached out and brushed my fingers lightly against his hand, testing the waters. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he turned his hand over, letting his fingers intertwine with mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re the one who makes things more fun,” I whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that made my heart flutter. “I could say the same about you.”
For a moment, we just sat there, holding hands, the laptop forgotten on his knees, the pictures of mountains and forests a distant memory. All that mattered was this—this quiet, perfect moment between us.
He shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. He looked down at me, his eyes still shining with that same light, but now I knew what it meant. It wasn’t the photos that made him happy. It wasn’t the stories of his adventures.
It was me.
And that was the moment everything changed. Without a word, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, lingering just long enough to make me forget to breathe. When he pulled back, his smile was still there, but now it was different—softer, sweeter.
"I think we should make some memories of our own," he said, his voice low, just for me.
And in that instant, I knew we already had.
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