fic: promise [dianna agron/darren criss, glee rpf]
promise. dianna agron/darren criss [glee rpf]. pg-13. romance/angst. She tries not to remember sitting across from Darren, listening intently to every word coming from his mouth, laughing at his jokes, and staring far too much at his lips. 2753 words. this is the interview mentioned in the fic.
Cause when you find yourself the villain
In the story you have written
It's plain to see
That sometimes the best intentions
Are in need of redemption
Dianna fiddles with her dress, trying to discretely pull the bust of it up without looking like a complete fashion failure. She sighs, feeling uncomfortable, feet hurting, head pounding, and she just wishes she could go home, put on her sheep pajamas and drink a cup of tea (possibly with shot of whiskey in it). A large, annoyingly persistent part of her wants to leave early, to congratulate Chris and Ryan and everyone else and then to just turn around and leave behind the pretty dress and the handsome men and all the wonder of the Golden Globes.
She knows her face must be curled up in an unflattering pout but she can’t help it - if she could, she would put on a smile and walk into the fishbowl and join her friends for a celebratory interview. Crossing her arms, she remembers what’s keeping her out here, and the thought of it sends patches of red embarrassment to her cheeks. A dumb not-relationship with some dorky, wonderful, sweet guy she never even gets to see anyway shouldn’t stop her from enjoying this magical night. It shouldn’t send waves of nausea through her; it shouldn’t make her back tingle in the worst way possible; it shouldn’t make her forget all of the hard work she and her best friends put into making their show officially the greatest. It shouldn’t, but it does, and so she refuses to walk any closer to that interview room. From here she can barely see Heather briskly walk through the doors and her gut writhes a little bit from all of the horrible things she’s feeling right now.
She looks down at the beautiful marble tile, drawing small circles with her foot. In the back of her mind she tries not to recall a night where she and her friends went out to see some live music and have a few drinks. She tries not to remember sitting across from Darren, listening intently to every word coming from his mouth, laughing at his jokes, and staring far too much at his lips. The music was soft and lovely; the light of the small venue tinted orange, the sweet taste of her drink lingering in her mouth. She giggled every time he looked at her, pushing strands of hair behind her ear in an uncharacteristically shy way. At one point he leaned back in his chair, not even noticing that he was in danger of falling over. Which he did, by the way, and she had let out a small shriek and ran over to him. He looked up at her, eyes squinting, and smiled sheepishly. She tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh; an embarrassed look flashed across his features, but eventually he joined in with her laughing. She helped him up, and both of them picked his chair up, moving it slightly closer to hers.
She tries not to think about how even after everyone had left on that night, they stayed until the venue was closing up. By the end of the night they both had drunk enough to be incredibly giggly, and everything that he said seemed liked the most hilarious thing ever to her. She’s still not sure if that was because how much she had drunk or if she had been like that all night.
She tries not to feel how good it was to be sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, head on his chest, as he strummed his guitar and sang for her a folksy version of “Once Upon a Dream.” “You’re a princess,” he added at the end of the song. “In all the best ways. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”
“You’re so cheesy,” she mumbled against his chest, but his words made her head feel as light as air.
“I know,” he breathed out, his voice so simple and sincere, looking down at her. She glanced up, her head comfortable on his chest but wanting to see his eyes. Pulling herself off his chest, she reached out and cupped his face, her glance darting from his lips to his eyes. He took his hand off of his guitar and held hers against his face, stroking the soft skin of her hand. Taking his other hand from the instrument, he first tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and then brought her to him, kissing her tenderly. Dianna kissed back, wanting to be close to him so badly. He moved the guitar, managing to put it next to him while continuing to kiss her. She put one leg over his body, moving herself so that she was in less of a straddle and more of an embrace. Running a hand through his hair, she kissed harder, feeling his tongue slip into her mouth. His hands on her back felt so nice, and soon his lips were against her neck and she couldn’t believe that anything could feel this good.
Dianna blushes, remembering the rest of the night. She looks around, nervously, hoping that no one can see that she’s recalling, in far too much detail, her sexual exploits.
The morning after had been nicer than she expected. When she first woke up that morning, she thought it would be only seconds until she felt the pounding headache and the wave of regret. Then she realized that Darren was stirring, and then she saw him smiling at her, and neither the headache nor the regret made an appearance.
She stared into his eyes as he brought a hand up to stroke her face. Giving a soft, melancholy smile, she whispered, “I have a boyfriend.”
A look of hurt flashed across his face, but he didn’t take his hand away from her cheek. “That’s okay,” he whispered back.
She doesn’t know why she didn’t call Alex then and break things off. All she can remember was that she kept making excuses: it was just drunken sex, it didn’t mean anything, I don’t really know him, he’s probably not interested anyway. All she knows is that when she left Darren’s apartment, she didn’t look back. She never called him, and didn’t answer his texts or voicemails. She avoided him the few times she had to see him at work.
And then, because the world apparently hates her, he ended up sitting next to her at the awards that night. She tried to act normal around him, making casual small talk, and he seemed to not acknowledge that anything happened between them either. It’s that part that makes her feel the worst; she feels like it confirms all her dumb excuses, that it didn’t mean anything and that he never really cared. She knows she has no right to be mad at him for acting so casual, since she was the one broke things off before they ever had the chance really to get started.
So she stands there, trying to figure her feelings out, trying to muster up enough gumption to stride into the fishbowl, head held high, not caring about any stupid not-relationship. The problem is, the more she tries to push it away, the more it keeps coming back, right underneath the place where she knows her heart to be.
“Dianna!”
She spins around, and see Lea’s bright face behind her. Putting two and two together, she realizes that Lea must also be late, although she doubts it’s for the same reason.
“Why do you look so down?” Lea asks, getting right to the point. Dianna had no idea that her problems were written all over her face.
“Boy troubles,” Dianna mumbles.
Lea’s eyes widen. “I totally knew something skeevy was going on with that girl sitting next to Alex,” she says, folding her arms.
Dianna shakes her head, “No, Alex is great,” she says, her voice dropping lower on the last word. She tries her hardest to beam at Lea, and takes her friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry about it!” she giggles. “Really, I think I’ve just had way too much champagne.” It’s not technically a lie.
Lea’s eyes narrow, and Dianna knows that she wouldn’t be able to hide this from Lea, but she really doesn’t want to talk about it, now or ever. So she whispers, “Please don’t ask me about it.”
Lea pouts, but nods, and grips Dianna’s hand tighter. “Come on, we’re late!” she says, smiling. “We don’t want to miss the Access Hollywood interview.”
Dianna agrees, and before she knows it, they’re both entering the room that she had been dreading so much. Everyone is exclaiming at their entrance, and Dianna can’t help but smile. She notices a group of guys standing in the back, and she decides to look at Billy Bush, the Access Hollywood interviewer who always goes out of his way to compliment her. Normally she would think it sweet, but sometimes it gets a bit creepy.
Out of the corner of her eye she sees Darren, staring at her, a soft smile on his face. He’s not clapping like everyone else is, but instead staring intently at her. Billy claps his hands and shouts, “You know what, Dianna, the only seat left is my knee.” Normally she would decline his offer, but she strides over to him and tries to gracefully sit on his lap. Catcalls come from everyone in the room, and she sees Darren grin and then bite his fist mockingly. Part of her wants to laugh at his response, and part of her wishes he would intervene, taking her by the hand and holding her around the waist, letting her stand with him.
Billy continues the interview, and Dianna tries to not look at Darren, and she can feel his gaze on her face. The floor is then offered up to Dianna, and putting on an air of mock academia she asks, “What was the most pivotal moment this season?”
Kevin immediately responds with, “Everytime I get to sit next to you in a scene.”
Finally she looks at Darren, and as everyone around him laughs, she sees him quietly shaking his head in agreement. He lets out a small, “Yeah,” as if Kevin’s answer were the most natural response in the world.
“Any personal breakthroughs?” Billy asks and Dianna can’t take her eyes off of Darren. She bites her lip, knowing it will smear her lipstick but now they’re looking into each other’s eyes and her stomach is falling and she wants so badly to leave.
The interview finally ends, Billy announcing, “Dear Dianna, thank you for sitting on my knee.” Dianna immediately stands up, looking for Lea, reaching out for her hand, taking it and dragging her out of the room.
As she leads Lea out of the room, she hears her name being called. “Dianna!” She turns around and sees Darren heading toward her, and she freaks out.
“Come to the bathroom with me,” she tells Lea, who looks very confused.
Luckily there’s a ladies’ room nearby, and Dianna barges in, pulling Lea along with her. “What’s this all about?” Lea asks when they get into the powder room.
“Listen, I just, I can’t be there anymore. This night has felt horrible and it shouldn’t. It should be the best night I’ve ever had,” Dianna says, waving her hands around. She knows she looks ridiculous, but she feels that having her explosion in here with Lea is better than having it out there with the entirety of Hollywood watching her.
Dianna is about to continue when the door suddenly opens, and her stomach drops. Darren enters the room, one hand out, the other in a pocket. “Dianna,” he starts, but she walks toward him, catching him off guard.
“This is the ladies’ room, Darren,” she says quietly, trying to compose herself.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Lea asks from behind them. “Darren, what are you doing here?”
“Hi, Lea,” Darren says, sheepishly, and then he looks at Dianna. “We should talk,” he tells her. “But could we maybe do it somewhere else?”
Dianna looks down, her face burning up. She both wants to go and not go with him. She wants to cry on Lea’s shoulder about how everything’s ruined. She doesn’t want to have to actually deal with the problem.
“Fine,” she says. She turns around to look at Lea. “I’ll fill you in later,” she tells her, giving her an apologizing look. Lea still looks bewildered, and simply nods.
Darren and Dianna find that the courtyard is virtually abandoned, and they manage to discover a small niche where they can talk privately.
Dianna leans against the wall, not caring what it does to her dress. “I really didn’t want this to happen,” she sighs.
“Well, avoidance has been working out pretty well for you,” Darren says, putting his hands in his pockets. Instead of sounding mean, Darren simply looks sad. He looks up and straight at her. “I just mean that I wish we had talked.”
“I’m just…I’m horrible at this stuff. If I can’t solve something easily I don’t want to deal with it at all,” Dianna explains, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “And everything was so weird because it wasn’t. It was perfect,” she admits.
“So you made it weird,” Darren says. “It doesn’t have to be,” he tells her.
She feels her eyes start to burn. “I know,” she lets out, her throat feeling scratchy. “I know and I’m sorry.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks, and she tries to casually wipe them away, pretending they aren’t even there.
“Hey, hey,” Darren whispers, walking closer to her, kissing her quickly on the lips and leaving a trail of kisses on her cheek until he brings her into a hug. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Her arms are up against his chest as she starts to cry harder. “Why do you have to be so nice?” she manages to choke out. “I need this to be easier.”
“Why does it need to happen at all?” he mumbles into her hair. “I want you so bad.”
“Me too,” she tells him, as she pulls away slightly. She knows her makeup is running and that she looks like a mess, but Darren is staring at her with such longing that it makes her heart break, because she’s sure the same look must be on her face too.
He leans in closer, and she can feel his breath on her lips. She can’t help it and wraps her arm around his neck, bringing him towards her as she kisses him. It’s a simple kiss, and they break apart quickly.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” she tells him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”
He smiles and runs a hand through her hair, twirling it around his finger. “God, you look so beautiful.”
“Darren, I don’t know what to do,” she tells him. “You and I work together and God, I have a boyfriend but the way I feel around you is just so much different than the way I feel around anyone else,” she confesses.
The smile on his face fades and his hand drops down. “Maybe…” he mumbles, looking away. “Maybe it would be better for both of us if we were just friends.” A smile grows on his face. “You know, I’d like that.”
Dianna has never felt so split before: elation grips her at the same time as her throat starts to scratch again. “I’d like that, too,” she admits, but begins to cry again. “Promise me we’ll still be friends,” she says, tears gathering at her chin. “Please don’t let this be one of those things where we say that we’ll be friends and then never talk again. Not talking to you for all this time was so hard.”
“Hey,” he says, bringing her into another hug. She puts her arms around his neck and holds on to his hair. “I promise,” he tells her. “With all my heart.”
The night has been difficult and long and her feet are so sore but she refuses to move from his embrace. She refuses to leave this place and go home to sheep pajamas and tea, to romantic comedies and no makeup and texting Lea nonstop. Nothing she wanted to do earlier could compare with how much she wants to stay here, feeling his arms around her, face buried in his neck. She’s sure that if she lets go he’ll disappear.
Cause when you find yourself the villain
In the story you have written
It's plain to see
That sometimes the best intentions
Are in need of redemption
Dianna fiddles with her dress, trying to discretely pull the bust of it up without looking like a complete fashion failure. She sighs, feeling uncomfortable, feet hurting, head pounding, and she just wishes she could go home, put on her sheep pajamas and drink a cup of tea (possibly with shot of whiskey in it). A large, annoyingly persistent part of her wants to leave early, to congratulate Chris and Ryan and everyone else and then to just turn around and leave behind the pretty dress and the handsome men and all the wonder of the Golden Globes.
She knows her face must be curled up in an unflattering pout but she can’t help it - if she could, she would put on a smile and walk into the fishbowl and join her friends for a celebratory interview. Crossing her arms, she remembers what’s keeping her out here, and the thought of it sends patches of red embarrassment to her cheeks. A dumb not-relationship with some dorky, wonderful, sweet guy she never even gets to see anyway shouldn’t stop her from enjoying this magical night. It shouldn’t send waves of nausea through her; it shouldn’t make her back tingle in the worst way possible; it shouldn’t make her forget all of the hard work she and her best friends put into making their show officially the greatest. It shouldn’t, but it does, and so she refuses to walk any closer to that interview room. From here she can barely see Heather briskly walk through the doors and her gut writhes a little bit from all of the horrible things she’s feeling right now.
She looks down at the beautiful marble tile, drawing small circles with her foot. In the back of her mind she tries not to recall a night where she and her friends went out to see some live music and have a few drinks. She tries not to remember sitting across from Darren, listening intently to every word coming from his mouth, laughing at his jokes, and staring far too much at his lips. The music was soft and lovely; the light of the small venue tinted orange, the sweet taste of her drink lingering in her mouth. She giggled every time he looked at her, pushing strands of hair behind her ear in an uncharacteristically shy way. At one point he leaned back in his chair, not even noticing that he was in danger of falling over. Which he did, by the way, and she had let out a small shriek and ran over to him. He looked up at her, eyes squinting, and smiled sheepishly. She tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh; an embarrassed look flashed across his features, but eventually he joined in with her laughing. She helped him up, and both of them picked his chair up, moving it slightly closer to hers.
She tries not to think about how even after everyone had left on that night, they stayed until the venue was closing up. By the end of the night they both had drunk enough to be incredibly giggly, and everything that he said seemed liked the most hilarious thing ever to her. She’s still not sure if that was because how much she had drunk or if she had been like that all night.
She tries not to feel how good it was to be sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, head on his chest, as he strummed his guitar and sang for her a folksy version of “Once Upon a Dream.” “You’re a princess,” he added at the end of the song. “In all the best ways. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”
“You’re so cheesy,” she mumbled against his chest, but his words made her head feel as light as air.
“I know,” he breathed out, his voice so simple and sincere, looking down at her. She glanced up, her head comfortable on his chest but wanting to see his eyes. Pulling herself off his chest, she reached out and cupped his face, her glance darting from his lips to his eyes. He took his hand off of his guitar and held hers against his face, stroking the soft skin of her hand. Taking his other hand from the instrument, he first tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and then brought her to him, kissing her tenderly. Dianna kissed back, wanting to be close to him so badly. He moved the guitar, managing to put it next to him while continuing to kiss her. She put one leg over his body, moving herself so that she was in less of a straddle and more of an embrace. Running a hand through his hair, she kissed harder, feeling his tongue slip into her mouth. His hands on her back felt so nice, and soon his lips were against her neck and she couldn’t believe that anything could feel this good.
Dianna blushes, remembering the rest of the night. She looks around, nervously, hoping that no one can see that she’s recalling, in far too much detail, her sexual exploits.
The morning after had been nicer than she expected. When she first woke up that morning, she thought it would be only seconds until she felt the pounding headache and the wave of regret. Then she realized that Darren was stirring, and then she saw him smiling at her, and neither the headache nor the regret made an appearance.
She stared into his eyes as he brought a hand up to stroke her face. Giving a soft, melancholy smile, she whispered, “I have a boyfriend.”
A look of hurt flashed across his face, but he didn’t take his hand away from her cheek. “That’s okay,” he whispered back.
She doesn’t know why she didn’t call Alex then and break things off. All she can remember was that she kept making excuses: it was just drunken sex, it didn’t mean anything, I don’t really know him, he’s probably not interested anyway. All she knows is that when she left Darren’s apartment, she didn’t look back. She never called him, and didn’t answer his texts or voicemails. She avoided him the few times she had to see him at work.
And then, because the world apparently hates her, he ended up sitting next to her at the awards that night. She tried to act normal around him, making casual small talk, and he seemed to not acknowledge that anything happened between them either. It’s that part that makes her feel the worst; she feels like it confirms all her dumb excuses, that it didn’t mean anything and that he never really cared. She knows she has no right to be mad at him for acting so casual, since she was the one broke things off before they ever had the chance really to get started.
So she stands there, trying to figure her feelings out, trying to muster up enough gumption to stride into the fishbowl, head held high, not caring about any stupid not-relationship. The problem is, the more she tries to push it away, the more it keeps coming back, right underneath the place where she knows her heart to be.
“Dianna!”
She spins around, and see Lea’s bright face behind her. Putting two and two together, she realizes that Lea must also be late, although she doubts it’s for the same reason.
“Why do you look so down?” Lea asks, getting right to the point. Dianna had no idea that her problems were written all over her face.
“Boy troubles,” Dianna mumbles.
Lea’s eyes widen. “I totally knew something skeevy was going on with that girl sitting next to Alex,” she says, folding her arms.
Dianna shakes her head, “No, Alex is great,” she says, her voice dropping lower on the last word. She tries her hardest to beam at Lea, and takes her friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry about it!” she giggles. “Really, I think I’ve just had way too much champagne.” It’s not technically a lie.
Lea’s eyes narrow, and Dianna knows that she wouldn’t be able to hide this from Lea, but she really doesn’t want to talk about it, now or ever. So she whispers, “Please don’t ask me about it.”
Lea pouts, but nods, and grips Dianna’s hand tighter. “Come on, we’re late!” she says, smiling. “We don’t want to miss the Access Hollywood interview.”
Dianna agrees, and before she knows it, they’re both entering the room that she had been dreading so much. Everyone is exclaiming at their entrance, and Dianna can’t help but smile. She notices a group of guys standing in the back, and she decides to look at Billy Bush, the Access Hollywood interviewer who always goes out of his way to compliment her. Normally she would think it sweet, but sometimes it gets a bit creepy.
Out of the corner of her eye she sees Darren, staring at her, a soft smile on his face. He’s not clapping like everyone else is, but instead staring intently at her. Billy claps his hands and shouts, “You know what, Dianna, the only seat left is my knee.” Normally she would decline his offer, but she strides over to him and tries to gracefully sit on his lap. Catcalls come from everyone in the room, and she sees Darren grin and then bite his fist mockingly. Part of her wants to laugh at his response, and part of her wishes he would intervene, taking her by the hand and holding her around the waist, letting her stand with him.
Billy continues the interview, and Dianna tries to not look at Darren, and she can feel his gaze on her face. The floor is then offered up to Dianna, and putting on an air of mock academia she asks, “What was the most pivotal moment this season?”
Kevin immediately responds with, “Everytime I get to sit next to you in a scene.”
Finally she looks at Darren, and as everyone around him laughs, she sees him quietly shaking his head in agreement. He lets out a small, “Yeah,” as if Kevin’s answer were the most natural response in the world.
“Any personal breakthroughs?” Billy asks and Dianna can’t take her eyes off of Darren. She bites her lip, knowing it will smear her lipstick but now they’re looking into each other’s eyes and her stomach is falling and she wants so badly to leave.
The interview finally ends, Billy announcing, “Dear Dianna, thank you for sitting on my knee.” Dianna immediately stands up, looking for Lea, reaching out for her hand, taking it and dragging her out of the room.
As she leads Lea out of the room, she hears her name being called. “Dianna!” She turns around and sees Darren heading toward her, and she freaks out.
“Come to the bathroom with me,” she tells Lea, who looks very confused.
Luckily there’s a ladies’ room nearby, and Dianna barges in, pulling Lea along with her. “What’s this all about?” Lea asks when they get into the powder room.
“Listen, I just, I can’t be there anymore. This night has felt horrible and it shouldn’t. It should be the best night I’ve ever had,” Dianna says, waving her hands around. She knows she looks ridiculous, but she feels that having her explosion in here with Lea is better than having it out there with the entirety of Hollywood watching her.
Dianna is about to continue when the door suddenly opens, and her stomach drops. Darren enters the room, one hand out, the other in a pocket. “Dianna,” he starts, but she walks toward him, catching him off guard.
“This is the ladies’ room, Darren,” she says quietly, trying to compose herself.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Lea asks from behind them. “Darren, what are you doing here?”
“Hi, Lea,” Darren says, sheepishly, and then he looks at Dianna. “We should talk,” he tells her. “But could we maybe do it somewhere else?”
Dianna looks down, her face burning up. She both wants to go and not go with him. She wants to cry on Lea’s shoulder about how everything’s ruined. She doesn’t want to have to actually deal with the problem.
“Fine,” she says. She turns around to look at Lea. “I’ll fill you in later,” she tells her, giving her an apologizing look. Lea still looks bewildered, and simply nods.
Darren and Dianna find that the courtyard is virtually abandoned, and they manage to discover a small niche where they can talk privately.
Dianna leans against the wall, not caring what it does to her dress. “I really didn’t want this to happen,” she sighs.
“Well, avoidance has been working out pretty well for you,” Darren says, putting his hands in his pockets. Instead of sounding mean, Darren simply looks sad. He looks up and straight at her. “I just mean that I wish we had talked.”
“I’m just…I’m horrible at this stuff. If I can’t solve something easily I don’t want to deal with it at all,” Dianna explains, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “And everything was so weird because it wasn’t. It was perfect,” she admits.
“So you made it weird,” Darren says. “It doesn’t have to be,” he tells her.
She feels her eyes start to burn. “I know,” she lets out, her throat feeling scratchy. “I know and I’m sorry.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks, and she tries to casually wipe them away, pretending they aren’t even there.
“Hey, hey,” Darren whispers, walking closer to her, kissing her quickly on the lips and leaving a trail of kisses on her cheek until he brings her into a hug. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Her arms are up against his chest as she starts to cry harder. “Why do you have to be so nice?” she manages to choke out. “I need this to be easier.”
“Why does it need to happen at all?” he mumbles into her hair. “I want you so bad.”
“Me too,” she tells him, as she pulls away slightly. She knows her makeup is running and that she looks like a mess, but Darren is staring at her with such longing that it makes her heart break, because she’s sure the same look must be on her face too.
He leans in closer, and she can feel his breath on her lips. She can’t help it and wraps her arm around his neck, bringing him towards her as she kisses him. It’s a simple kiss, and they break apart quickly.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” she tells him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”
He smiles and runs a hand through her hair, twirling it around his finger. “God, you look so beautiful.”
“Darren, I don’t know what to do,” she tells him. “You and I work together and God, I have a boyfriend but the way I feel around you is just so much different than the way I feel around anyone else,” she confesses.
The smile on his face fades and his hand drops down. “Maybe…” he mumbles, looking away. “Maybe it would be better for both of us if we were just friends.” A smile grows on his face. “You know, I’d like that.”
Dianna has never felt so split before: elation grips her at the same time as her throat starts to scratch again. “I’d like that, too,” she admits, but begins to cry again. “Promise me we’ll still be friends,” she says, tears gathering at her chin. “Please don’t let this be one of those things where we say that we’ll be friends and then never talk again. Not talking to you for all this time was so hard.”
“Hey,” he says, bringing her into another hug. She puts her arms around his neck and holds on to his hair. “I promise,” he tells her. “With all my heart.”
The night has been difficult and long and her feet are so sore but she refuses to move from his embrace. She refuses to leave this place and go home to sheep pajamas and tea, to romantic comedies and no makeup and texting Lea nonstop. Nothing she wanted to do earlier could compare with how much she wants to stay here, feeling his arms around her, face buried in his neck. She’s sure that if she lets go he’ll disappear.