18 | the thing about love

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Olivia woke up to the soft glow of the Netflix home screen illuminating her living room. The trailer of the streaming platform's latest rom com played on a loop in the background on mute.

Her upper back leaned against the arm of the couch, propped up by the pillow Spencer had wedged behind her hours ago. In front of her, her legs were splayed out around her sleeping boyfriend. After a long day of training and meetings, the day had finally caught up with Spencer, and he now snored softly in her lap.

Sliding her fingers along the silver chain that hung around her neck, she smiled as she felt the ridges of each link under her fingertips. Five minutes. They had lasted five minutes into their first Friday movie night as a couple.

"Wake up," she whispered, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. Holding herself to him, she kissed him softly until she felt him return the pressure.

"Hi," he mumbled against her lips, his voice deep with sleep. Clumsily flipping himself over, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, dragging her down so he could lay his head against her chest. "Everything okay?"

"Just missed you," she replied, her fingers lightly tracing circles on his shoulder.

"In that case," he pushed himself up, bring his lips to hers. "I missed you, too."

Her legs wrapped loosely around his waist as the kiss intensified. Bringing her arms around his neck, she clung to him as he lifted them both and sat back, straddling her against his hips while his palms roamed her slim back. Locking his head against hers, she rested her elbows on his shoulders, intertwining her fingers behind his head. She pressed herself against him with frantic energy, getting lost in the taste of him.

He let out a groan as he welcomed the aggressiveness, and he soon started to grow between their bodies. It wasn't until the sensation of him poking at her stomach pulled her back to reality that she untangled her arms from him and pulled herself back.

"Wait, this isn't why I woke you up," she gasped. She tried to give him a stern look, but her heavy breathing worked against it.

"It's okay. I don't mind," he brought his hands to her waist, running his thumb along the bottom of her breasts.

"We've hardly talked this whole week," she pouted, placing her hands over his and sliding them down.

"Okay, you right," he laughed, loosening his grip on her. "We can talk."

"First, put these on," she leaned over, picking his boxers off the floor and flinging them at him. "It'll help... with that." Her eyes lowered.

"Help you or me?" he raised his eyebrows at her as he got up to cover himself.

"Both of us," she answered firmly, locating his hoodie to dress herself. After she considered herself sufficiently covered, she sat back in his lap. Her fingers trailed the side of his face while she resisted the urge to start kissing him again.

"So, what are we talking about?" he asked after she didn't bring up a topic of conversation.

"Well," she started. "We've barely acknowledged your birthday coming up in...," she paused to check her phone, "thirty five minutes."

"You know I never make it a big deal, Liv," he sighed, his eyes focused on his fingers as they played with the strings of the hoodie.

"Doesn't mean I can't," she rested her hands on his chest. "Twenty seven is big."

"Is it?" he asked, the doubt clear in his voice.

"It is to me," she smiled. "I missed twenty five and twenty six, so it's three times as important."

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