it starts slower than you thought it would.

abby’s always had this weight to her. not just physically, but in the way she carries herself. grounded. steady. like she never does anything without thinking it through three times first.

so when you’re curled up with her in the corner of her room, legs tangled, knees brushing, and you feel her eyes on your mouth more than your face, you don’t rush it. you just wait.

you’re mid sentence, laughing over something stupid she said earlier, and then she cuts you off. not with words, just her hand on your cheek, thumb grazing your skin, eyes a little too soft for someone who could break you in half.

“can i…?” she murmurs.

you nod. a little breathless. “please.”

and then she’s kissing you, finally, and it’s not rough or clumsy or greedy like you’d imagined in your head. it’s careful. her lips are warm and a little chapped, and her hand stays on your cheek like she’s grounding herself just as much as she is you.

but the longer it goes, the more she sinks into it.

her other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer like she’s been dying to touch you like this. your fingers end up in her hair, tugging gently when she tilts her head and deepens the kiss.

she groans — quiet, like it slips out before she can catch it — and that’s when things start to blur. kisses turn messy. more tongue, less thinking. her hands move, yours follow, and suddenly you’re straddling her lap, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

“fuck,” she mutters against your mouth. “you’re gonna ruin me.”