The morning stretched lazily around us, time moving slower in the warmth of tangled sheets and lingering kisses. Neither of us had moved much, caught in the quiet spell of soft touches and whispered confessions.
   But then her stomach growled.
   I pulled back just enough to see the embarrassed flush rise to her cheeks, and I grinned. “Well, I guess someone’s hungry.”
   She groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “Don’t laugh at me. I was too busy being in love to think about food.”
   I laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple before sitting up. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
   She sighed dramatically, rolling onto her back and stretching, her shirt lifting just enough to expose a sliver of skin. I bit my lip, forcing myself to focus on the promise of breakfast instead of the overwhelming desire to pull her back into my arms.
   “Fine,” she finally said, rubbing her eyes. “But you’re making coffee.”
   “Of course,” I teased, tossing a pillow at her. She caught it, laughing as she sat up.
   We eventually dragged ourselves out of bed, her stealing one of my hoodies even though her own clothes were perfectly within reach. She looked ridiculously small in it, the sleeves covering her hands, and I couldn’t help but smile as I followed her into the kitchen.
   She settled onto the counter while I moved around, brewing coffee and throwing together something simple for breakfast. She watched me with a soft smile, her bare legs swinging lightly, her curls still messy from sleep.
   “You’re staring,” I said without looking up.
   She hummed, amused. “Maybe I just like what I see.”
   I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you see?”
   She tilted her head, pretending to think. “A very cute girl making me coffee.”
   I rolled my eyes, but I could feel my face heating up. “Flatter me all you want, but I’m still making you eat actual food.”
   She grinned, reaching for the coffee mug I handed her. “You’re gonna take such good care of me.”
   I leaned against the counter next to her, sipping my own coffee. “Of course I am.”
   There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt comfortable, filled with something warm and unspoken. She set her cup down and turned to me, her fingers tracing over the back of my hand before she laced them with mine.
   “This still feels surreal,” she murmured.
   I squeezed her hand gently. “Good surreal?”
   She nodded, her thumb brushing over my skin. “Like… I’ve wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, I don’t know what to do with myself.”
   I smiled, tilting my head. “How about you kiss me again?”
   She laughed, shaking her head before leaning in, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that was slow and sweet, filled with something deeper than last night’s rush. I sighed into it, my free hand coming up to cup her cheek, feeling the way she melted into me.
   When we finally pulled apart, she stayed close, her forehead resting against mine. “I’m not letting go of you, you know.”
   I grinned. “Good. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
   She chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before stealing another sip of her coffee. “So,” she mused playfully, “think you’re ready to take your drunk, lovesick mess of a girlfriend on an actual date?”
   I laughed, leaning against her, my heart full. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I think I am.”
   And as the morning sun continued to rise, I knew this was only the beginning.