Andrew swears he could eat you for lunch. Just watching you exist is like watching an angel in their element.

He walked into the bedroom to find you lying on your stomach in bed, book in hand as the sun basks on your skin through the windows. Andrew felt his legs go weak for a second.

So he crawls into bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your upper back.

“I swear I could eat you for lunch.” He murmurs against the skin on your shoulder.