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It started small.
She left her grey sweater there one night after their third date. They’d spent the majority of the evening making out on his sofa and he had pulled it over her head and tossed it aside at some point.
He found it the next day under his coffee table. Bringing it to his face, he inhaled the scent of her perfume that lingered on it. He cleared a drawer in his bedroom, folded the sweater neatly, and tucked it inside with a smile on his face.
A week later, she spent the night for the first time. He woke her with soft kisses, and she rolled away from him, concerned about morning breath.
He found her a spare toothbrush and she brushed her teeth while he stood in the doorway grinning at her. Once she was done, he watched as she gleefully set the toothbrush beside his own.
Four nights later, they went grocery shopping together. She piled his cart full of the snacks and junk she liked and he filled it with fresh fruits and vegetables. Back at his place, they unpacked and he made them a nutritious dinner. Afterwards, they snacked on her treats while watching a movie in bed.
Two weeks later, he'd had one of the worst Superman days of his life. Hundreds were killed in an earthquake. He wasn't fast enough. Smart enough. Strong enough. He flew home devastated, and she was there. Sitting on his sofa with CNN on, watching the news reports, her brow furrowed in deep concern. She leaped from the sofa as he cleared the window and tugged him into her arms.
"I'm here," she whispered as his body sagged with exhaustion.
She stayed with him all weekend.
From then, an explosion of little things. An extra hairbrush in his bathroom drawer. Her phone charger now permanently plugged in on her side of his bed.
Hair ties. Everywhere. Where did they all come from?
His laundry multiplied. How do you wash a bra anyway?
Her running shoes sat beside his in his closet. Her keys were in the bowl beside the front door along with half a dozen bobby pins and three ChapSticks.
An ever-expanding pile of her story notes now permanently lived on his coffee table. Their laptops sat side by side on his desk.
They went to bed together every night and he woke up with her tucked into the space beside him every morning.
"I'm cold," she said one evening a month later. "Have you seen my grey sweater?"
He ran to the bedroom. He tried to open her drawer but found it jammed and overflowing. He tugged a little harder and it opened.
He laughed. Jeans and sweaters and blouses and underwear all shoved into the one drawer. He found the sweater and jogged back to the living room.
"Lois,” he said. “Do you want to move in?"
She looked up from her place on the sofa, closing her laptop carefully. Her lips quirked into a smile. "Okay."
“Really?” He was pleased it was that easy.
“Yes.” She looked around his living room. “But where will I put all my stuff?” She asked, her expression serious.
He took the seat beside her and kissed her cheek.
“I’ll make space.”
the end