She wasn't sure how it happened, or if it even happened at all. Maybe it had just built up until it was.
When they had been watching The Conjuring, it had only made sense to scoot a little closer and put her head on his shoulder at the scary parts. And it had just felt right to stay that way long after the movie had finished.
When he put his arm around her shoulder, it just seemed normal to lean into him a little.
When she finally got tired on the couch in his basement after watching four consecutive Harry Potter movies, she put her head in his lap by instinct, and his fingers just felt natural playing with her hair until she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.
When she woke up in the morning, he was the first person she texted, and the last before she went to bed.
When she needed a friend, he was the one who got her through the worst chapters of her life, and helped her write the best ones.
She had started to notice things, too. How his eyebrows knitted together when he concentrated, how he flexed his fingers before copying things down from the black board, how his jaw twitched when he was annoyed, how he grinned when his little sister asked him to watch a Disney movie for the millionth time that week, how he appreciated music as much as she did, how his fingers danced over the yellowed keys of the grand piano in her living room, how he loved his family more than anything, how he stared at the stars like they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen and then looked at her the same way.
She knew he was her best friend in the world, and his favourite colour was navy blue, and he actually really liked to read, and he'd seen all the MARVEL movies at least three times, and under his cocky attitude he wasn't all that sure of himself, and he had a dog named Turtle and a cat named Shark (and he had picked those names himself when he was six years old).
And she was terrified, because now she knew, for the first time, that she was utterly and completely in love with him.
Well, shit.
