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Nash and Isabel
“I love you,” he said. You rolled over so you were facing him in the bed. It was dark, but his blue eyes shone out through the blackness. They were wide open, as were yours; neither of you were tired. Your bodies were close, close enough to be able to feel the other’s breath on your skin. He reached out with one of his hands and stroked it down your arm, sending goose bumps up your skin and straight into your heart. He was sweet… perfect.
“I love you, too,” you said. Your hand touched his, gripping his fingers within yours, tight enough for him to know how much you cared. You never wanted to let him go. You stared at each other for a long time. It was peaceful… silent… perfect. You two didn’t need to talk to bond, to connect, or really to have a conversation. The looks you gave each other said it all.
“I’m tired,” you said finally. It’d been about an hour of his hand rubbing up and down your arm, and your hands planted firmly on his bare chest.
“Then go to bed, angel,” he whispered to you. His eyes were still open, the blue abyss not fading.
“But what about you? Won’t you be bored?” you asked, genuinely concerned about him.
“Don’t worry about me, Isabel,” he said. “I love to watch you sleep.”
“Okay,” you said, closing your eyes finally.
“Goodnight, Is,” he said.
“Goodnight, Nash.”