"Shut up!", she panted softly. He had been standing there, in front of her, talking, for an eternity. Rambling on and on about how he did not want to ruin their friendship, how he would be whatever she needed him to be, how he would even leave her completely alone if she asked, how he only wanted her happiness; continuously dancing around the point that he would very much like to be the one to make her happy. All the while being oblivious to her excitement about him finally making the first move, about the prospect of really being with him, not just as friends, oblivious to her flushed skin as she had long ago stopped listening to his deliberations, that grew more insecure by the minute, and had taken up an intense study of his lips. Her words made him stop dead in the middle of the sentence and he looked like she had just slapped him. His face was the epitome of defeat.
She sighed. Grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him straight into the eyes. Letting all her guards down, she conveyed in one look everything that she could not put into words. That she would very much like to be happy with him, that it had always been him, that in fact in this very moment all she needed was him, right now. Slowly, understanding dawned on his face. The realization made his features soften, true happiness shining through his eyes. They had always been better at communicating without words, after all. His gaze dropped to her lips, and with a crooked grin he whispered: "Make me."