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They’re lying together on her bed, their ankles interlocked, their bodies curved towards one another like arcing comets. Mike is playing with El’s fingers with one hand, using the other to brush her shaved hair. She can feel him so much more now, attuned to every stroke of his thumb against the sensitive skin behind her ear.
“Still pretty?” she whispers.
He cups her face, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He looks, he sounds, he feels like home.
Resting his forehead against hers, his shooting star smile sets her heart alight. “Pretty,” he promises. ”Really pretty.”