There are times when we are silent, and it is in these moments that I know he would say it if he could.

It's in the way I notice him licking his lips right after I lick mine, as if he's been paying absolute, undivided attention to them and has unconsciously trained himself to mimic their actions. It's in the way he grins at me when I catch him staring, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a smile as my eyebrows rise on my forehead in delight and slight embarrassment. It's in the way he sucks in his breath whenever we move close together, as if he's afraid that the sound of his breathing will scare us apart. It's in the way his cheeks flush as I bring my pen to my mouth in concentration, and it is in the way he focuses his gaze on me so intensely as I read.

If only he could say it. Then it would be perfect. The words are written so plainly in his eyes, though, that I know how he feels. I just hope that he knows that I feel the same. And I hope that we both get the chance to say it to each other, out loud, in the open, so these longing glances and pent up feelings would disappear.