You rest your head on my chest, and it feels like the ocean waves are crashing in my lungs. The waves pound against the sides of my organs, and the salt stings inside my capillaries. I wrap my arm around your thin shoulders, making my mind reach out to yours through the connection I know you feel between our intertwined energies.
I refuse to let my nervous hands shake.
You cuddle your head into my shoulder blade, resting your forehead near my neck. I don't don't think you did it on purpose. My head leans over to rest against yours without me telling it to do so, but you don't seem to mind. I'm glad that you don't seem to care about the little affections.
I refuse to let my anxious feet tap.
I know that you're smiling. The way that you feel against me always feels calmer when you smile, and my heart rate is slowing, so it must be you. You always manage to relax me without my consent, not that I mind. I never mind anything when it involves you.
I refuse to let my jittery fingers twitch.
Your leg overlaps mine with the shift of our bodies, closer, ever closer, even when we don't mean for it to occur. My arm tightens around you, and I keep a quiet grin to myself. Maybe you can feel it too. I guess I'll never know.
I refuse to let my curious mouth ramble.
I bite my lip, trying to suppress a grin I know will never fade as long as you are pressed against my side, your leg over mine, your arm around my middle. I shift my face against your hair, breathe, and smile. You don't seem to mind, and I'm happy that you're here with me.
I refuse to ask if you feel the same.
You probably do.