It was after the storm. When she was not at the eye, when the rule passed, and when the feelings were not playing games. It was when she knew that it was not a replacement. It was real. At least she's been thinking they are—they were.
When those small gestures during their outing meant nothing, made her realize something. When she was freezing cold on the last day from the low temperature and rain, his offer of his hoodie was his baby step to something worth remembering. When the offer of hiding behind him because embarrassment flooded her from the dare was another step. When drunk nights and sober hearts made her realize that they were both aware and sober.
Then after the storm…
Concern and experience were shared. It meant nothing but care, sympathy, and empathy. Until it crawled to the obvious reasons. Time was given in the middle. But it couldn't wait. She couldn't. Until she found out that he couldn't because of personal reasons. But during an ice cream crave, hypothetically, he would try. "Why not?"
Until the accidental first move was made. And clueless thoughts of whether out of joy of an announcement or the ease of the job. He may have played along or meant it. It went on during the morning.
It was during those mornings of luxury and stress that crept the tendency of proving meaning to gestures. When fingers would lace in comfort in secret places and when light touches cause the madness of internal tornadoes and tidal waves. And the pain of hiding would be unbearable and embarrassing either would have to stop. When eyes would meet and they would linger for quite some time until a second was so obvious to her but not to him.
The wordless secret made them find connection.
It would always make her hope for the same mornings.