If You Love Me

39

This chapter contains mature content.

a v e r y

DEAN AND I HAVE BEEN in this position for what felt like hours; him laying against my sheets while I sit on top of him. He has a book in his hands, mine long abandoned as I resorted to watching him as he flips through the pages. He keeps his eyebrows furrowed and pulled together; the rest of his face neutral as he skims through the pages.

He came over earlier with this book in hands and the widest of smiles on his face. He then went on about the bookstore and the man named Paul that he met just a couple hours prior. The book that he had in his hands shocked me only slightly less than his reason behind purchasing it. He told me that he wanted a copy of the thing that I keep the closet to my heart, grinning at me like he didn't just make my world turn on its axis. He then threw himself on my bed and insisted that I sit on him while we read together.

His eyes leave the page as he peeks over the book and looks up at me.

"Did you read it yet?" I ask.

I have been waiting for him to get to my favourite part for what seemed like forever, his facial expressions not giving away if he had gotten there yet.

"Not yet." He says, looking back down at the page.

Not even a minute later, his eyes drift over the top of the book and make contact with mine.

"How about now?"

"Nope." He looks away and flips the page.

"Well, hurry up." I say and he smiles to himself.

His eyebrows furrow once more as he takes his pink bottom lip between his teeth. His hair lays messily against his forehead, the curls falling every which way. I resist the urge to play with the strands, not wanting to distract him from the book.

He has been letting his hair grow up the past couple months and I wasn't complaining as I liked the shaggier look on him. I liked Dean a little messy as it was clear that he had spent so much of his life being perfect. I especially liked that he liked himself a little messy too — that he would no longer stress if his shirt was wrinkly, or if he should wear jeans dress pants versus jeans.

I like that he let himself be messy, beautiful, and real.

His green eyes slide away from the page and look up to meet mine once again. I raise my eyebrow at him to which he sends me a cheeky grin.

"Dean..."

"I'm sorry, Avy," he begins to laugh, and I cannot help but laugh alongside him. "I don't know how you expect me to focus when I have the prettiest girl in the world sitting on me and staring at me like that like she loves me or something."

"Or something." I say and move to slide off of his legs, his hands halting me from doing so and placing me right back where I was.

"I never said that I wanted you to get off."

He slides his hand up my thigh until he lands at my hip, holding me in place. He begins to move his thumb back and forth, bringing warmth to whether he touches as he moves his eyes back to the book.

We stay like that for another ten minutes before he closes the book, surprisingly having finished it, and sets it aside, putting both of his hands on to my hips.

"Did you read it?" I ask.

"I did."

"What did you think? Did you like it?"

"I more than liked it," he responds. "Can't believe I let you keep it from me for so long."

"What was your favourite part?"