009. her
I watch as she pushes a stray lock of brown hair out of her face then goes back to cutting up lettuce. She insisted on making me dinner tonight, a change from our usual dinner routine. She loves my cooking, she insisted, but tonight, she wanted to do something for me. So, I stand, leaning against the doorframe to her bedroom, watching her as she concentrates on assaulting the lettuce.
I watch her, really study her, taking advantage of the fact that she doesn't know I'm staring. Her brow is creased in concentration, soft eyes focused firmly on the task at hand. She never does anything halfway, always dives right in without question, and dinner tonight is no exception. One of the three pots on the stove calls her attention. Her face goes out of my view.
I remember the first time we kissed. It had been an accident, a move that neither of us had planned. Afterwards, I looked up at her, unsure, scared of what I was feeling, afraid of what she was thinking. She just looked at me and said gently, "now, that is something I want to be doing fifty years from now." I smiled, knowing that no matter what happened, my heart was safe with her.
She turns back around, back to making the salad, and before I know it, her eyes are on me. She grins, and without a moment's hesitation, my expression matches hers. She winks at me, smiles a bit more, then goes back to her lettuce. I stand up straight, and in five steps, I'm in the kitchen.
Standing behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her close. I feel her lean into me instantly, bringing us even closer together. A hand gently touches my arm. My lips press against her exposed shoulder.
"You know, dinner's never gonna be ready if we continue like this." She whispers.
"As long as I have you, I don't need dinner."
She turns around in my arms, captures my lips with her own. I melt into her, knowing this is the only place I could ever belong. In her home, in her arms. In her heart.