The pan sizzled, butter snapping against the surface as Drew leaned lazily on one elbow over the stove. His T-shirt clung in soft folds to his shoulders, hair a little messy from sleep. He was making the simplest thing—just a grilled cheese—but the way he moved, focused and easy, made her watch as though it were something extraordinary.

She sat on the counter, legs bare and swinging, cheek resting in her palm. The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the crackle of the bread turning golden. It was nearly one in the morning, but it felt like they existed in a secret pocket of time—half-dream, half-reality.

“Smells like you might actually know what you’re doing,” she teased.

He shot her a grin over his shoulder, the kind that made her chest ache in the best way. “Just wait. This is five-star.”

He slid the sandwich onto a plate with a flourish, setting it on the counter beside her. Before she could reach for it, though, a song began to play from the small speaker tucked in the corner—All I Need by Radiohead, soft and haunting, the kind of music that made the air itself feel slower, thicker.

Drew stilled. His eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then, with a small smile, he stepped closer.

“Don’t eat yet,” he murmured, gently setting the plate aside. His hands slid around her waist, warm and sure, and before she could argue, he lifted her from the counter as though she weighed nothing at all.

She laughed, surprised, but the laugh caught in her throat when he set her down on the cool tile and drew her against him. The smell of butter and toasted bread lingered, but now all she noticed was the faint soap on his shirt, the steady beat of his chest under her ear.

They swayed together, the music wrapping around them. He held her as though they weren’t in a kitchen at all but somewhere far away, somewhere private and endless. His thumb brushed small circles at her back, and he lowered his forehead to hers.

“You know the sandwich is getting cold,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly, his breath brushing her lips. “Worth it.”

The song built slowly, every note filling the quiet space between them, and she closed her eyes, sinking further into him. She felt weightless, caught between the music and his heartbeat, as though this was the only moment that mattered.

By the time the last chord faded, the sandwich had cooled completely, forgotten on the counter. But standing there in his arms, swaying in a midnight kitchen, she realized the food had never been the point.

She already had everything she wanted.