This wasn’t the kind of kiss that unraveled her.
It settled her.
She pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against Tilly’s. Their noses brushed when they spoke.
“This still feels… good,” Savannah said, a little breathless.
“It does,” Tilly agreed.
Savannah smiled, small and honest, then kissed them again. Deeper this time. Her fingers curled into the fabric of their shirt, grounding herself in the fact that they were here. That they hadn’t disappeared. That she hadn’t scared them off by needing them.
Tilly’s hand slid from her waist to her back, firm but unhurried, pulling her fully against them. Savannah felt it everywhere. The heat. The want. The safety of it.
She broke the kiss with a quiet laugh, pressing her forehead to Tilly’s jaw. “We should probably move before I fall asleep on you.”
Tilly smiled into her hair. “Bedroom?”
Savannah didn’t answer right away.
She kissed them once more, slower this time, then nodded.
Savannah took Tilly’s hand and led them down the hall, fingers laced tight like she didn’t want to risk losing momentum.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the spill of city light through the window. Savannah didn’t stop when they reached the bed. She turned instead, backing Tilly toward it, her hands already sliding up their arms, relearning the shape of them with quiet confidence.
Tilly’s breath hitched when Savannah kissed them again, slower now, deeper, all heat and patience. Their hands settled at Savannah’s waist, thumbs pressing in like they were grounding them both, like they were here and staying.
Savannah smiled against their mouth, soft and sure, and pushed them down onto the mattress.
Later, with the city humming outside and the sheets warm around them, Savannah let herself relax fully into the quiet certainty she’d been building toward all night.
This wasn’t a question.
It was a choice.
Forty Nine
The grocery cart pulled to the left every time Tilly tried to turn it.
They noticed.
They didn’t fix it.
Savannah walked beside them, close enough that her sleeve brushed theirs now and then. She didn’t apologize for it. Didn’t correct her path. Just stayed where she was.
That part still surprised Tilly.
The store was crowded in the way it always was on a Friday night. People lingering in aisles. Music low and tinny overhead. The normal hum of an evening that expected nothing from them beyond showing up and buying food.
Savannah stopped at the produce wall and leaned in like she was studying evidence.
Tilly watched her without comment.
Her hair was pulled back messily, hoodie half-zipped, hands shoved into the sleeves. She looked softer like this. Less sharpened. Savannah reached for a bag of mini cucumbers, paused, then glanced back at Tilly.
“Mini or regular?”
“Mini,” Tilly said.
