And he lay, strewn across the bed, clad in a white shirt that was way overdue on its death date, and blue checkered boxers. He smoothly tilted his head a few degrees and gazed at her, working at her desk.
Sporting a Winnie-The-Pooh over-sized shirt, she hunched over the table, her face scrunched in deep concentration and immerse focus. Her hands gently stroking the parchment with a marker, as light bounced off her smooth skin, that has seen no hardship.
He smiled to himself, watching her work, and admired her beauty; the eyes that winked, the cheeks that flustered, the hands that affectionately warmed him.
And they were teenagers in love.
