Manchester, England. Hidden in the woods, facing the town’s river. November 4th 2006.

You could see the snow falling slowly on the hood of your boyfriend’s FORD SVT through the windshield. Despite the warm air coming from the heaters, the sight of the snowflakes was enough to make you shiver. You scooted closer to your boyfriend on the seat, trying to steal his body warmth.

It was cozy in there. You had hung fairy lights on the roof for dark nights like this- which made the narrowed space even more romantic.

Looking up from the burger in your hands, you caught him already looking at you, half in the act of swallowing his own meal. His muscular figure was covered by a black hoodie- one you’d bought and personalized for him for his birthday.

He smiled with amusement as he watched you take a generous bite of your food. “Are you fed at home?” he teased with a smirk, to which you answered by poking his side. “I’m hungry, dummy.”

You continued to eat your meals through playful exchanges, until you managed to have burger sauce on your chin.

“You got some..” he pointed out with a gentle tone. Not mocking. “Come here,” he then beckoned you to lean over.

When you did, the blond meticulously removed the brownish substance from your skin. The gentleness of his calloused hands on you always had an effect on your heartbeat, and right now it was rushing.

A part of you felt a bit stupid for not being used to it by now- he’d been your friend for a decade before he became your boyfriend a year ago.

He licked his thumb, cleaning the sauce he’d wiped off your chin with a flick of his tongue. You caught the movement, watching the wet flesh as it swept over his bottom lip, and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

Simon leaned over the center console of his truck and lifted your chin with delicate fingers. The new angle allowed him to meet your gaze in the dim lit of the night.

“You’re so fucking beautiful..” he whispered, his voice a hot breath fanning against your lips.

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, just like they always did to you.

He leaned in closer, his mouth brushing yours, but not yet touching. It was as if he was waiting for you to make the move, to want him.

And you did. You always did.

Your hand wrapped around his neck and you closed the distance between your lips. The kiss was soft- almost lazy in its slowness, yet it didn’t take him more to make a low, guttural noise. Your lips were soft, and warm against his own, a straight contrast to the cold weather outside. He tasted like the strawberry milkshake you’d shared.

“I love you,” he sighed softly between kisses, his hand sliding down to your waist.