#Chapter 95: The Lovers

 

The sea is outside. We’re in the bedroom of a small cottage. The door’s open and I can see his mom’s old piano is tucked into the corner of the living room. My ballet shoes sit near the bench. 

 

He looks beautiful in the dim light. 

 

Everything about Ansel is strong - from the tenor of his voice, his height and broad shoulders, to the muscular lines of his body and the chiseled features of his face. 

 

It’s all there - the power of him, the hard lines I resented because he had changed, but his defenses are stripped away, revealing the totality of him and the gentle warmth inside. 

 

We’re shoulder-to-shoulder. He tilts his head over to me and smiles, and I like the way his eyes crinkle when he does. I let my head fall against his shoulder. He hums in my ear and loops his index finger around mine. 

 

“Is that a new song?” 

 

“Just a bit of a melody that popped in,” he says, shr