Aaron wasn’t one for physical touch, ever. However, his hands had been itching to touch her face. To cup her cheeks with his hands and feel her hair between his fingers as he whispered how much he worshiped her in her ears.

“I want to be the friend you fall hopeless in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head.” He says desperately.

His hands running through his hair nervously as the rain pours around them in the middle of the night. He’d ran to her.

“I want to be the kind of friend. The one who will memorise the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. I want to know every curve, every freckle, every shiver of your body.”