We're not doing anything, just being close.
My hand is in her hair and she's tracing patterns on my chest through my shirt.
The TV is on but neither of us are watching it.
"You're quiet," she says.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"This, you, how different it feels."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Different good."
She tilts her head to look at me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I feel grounded for the first time in a long time. Like I'm not just surviving anymore."
"That's good."
"It is."
She sits up and shifts so she's straddling my lap, her hands going to my face.
"I'm glad you stayed," she says.
"I'm glad you let me."
She leans in and kisses me, slow and deep.
My hands go to her hips and I pull her closer. She makes a sound against my mouth and it goes straight through me.
When she pulls back we're both breathing hard.
"We should probably slow down," she says.
"Yeah."
"Or we could not."
"Everly."
"I know, I know." She rests her forehead against mine. "I just really like kissing you."
"I really like kissing you too."
We stay like that for a while, just breathing together, being close.
This is intimacy without sex, connection without escalation.
And it feels right, feels like we're building something instead of just consuming each other.
"Tell me something," she says.
"Like what?"