"What were you like when you were little?"

We are lying next to each other on my bed, staring at the bland ceiling above us. There was no way that I was going to let her go back to her place, after my little discovery earlier that day. She was against it. Naturally. But I couldn't let her go back. I wouldn't let her go back. And even if I know deep down inside that I won't be able to protect her from her demons at all times, I knew that she'd at least be safely in my arms tonight. And for now, that was more than enough.

"Small." She states simply.

"Well, you're awfully descriptive today."

"Just telling it how it is."

"A little more details please." I urge playfully.

"I had freckles. Lots of them." She reveals.

"Oh God."

"What?"

"I'm trying to picture you, Ashley Davies, with freckles." I giggle.

"Thank you, for reminding me why I do not talk about my childhood."

"Oh no, don't stop! I'm sorry, I'm just curious. I bet you were the cutest kid on the block. Attitude included." I chuckle lightly.

"You got that right." She scoffs.

I love this side of her. Actually, I loved all of her sides. But the playful and light-hearted one wasn't always a part of her appearance. That smile, that laugh. When I would see it, hear it, even feel it … I melted. There isn't anything more heavenly than her happiness. It's a shame that she could barely express it. I have to change that. Not change her. Because I wouldn't dare to do that. In fact, I'd probably hate myself if I did. I just need to bring it out more. I just need to make her content. I need to keep her like that.

That's the hardest part. Keeping her happy.

"I wish, I knew you back then." I whisper while taking her hand in mine.

"Why?" she questions while deepening the contact by interlacing her fingers with mine. I still had to get used to her voluntary touch. It still excited and surprised me to no end, just like the first time. Or maybe it's supposed to stay that way?

"I don't know. I feel like a missed an eternity not being with you ."

"You'd hate me though."

"It isn't because we hated each other through high school, that we would've hated each other as kids too." I say as I instinctively rolled my eyes.

"You know those girly girls, that would act all Princes-y all the time, prancing around in thei pink tutu's?" She asks.

"Yes …" I respond pensively.

"And you know those mean kids who'd push them in the mud for no reason, just to ruin their clothes and see them cry?" She continues.

"Yeah …"

"Well, you'd be the tutu-girl and I'd be the mean bully."

"Damn, I would've hated you."

"Told you." She laughs.

We keep laying there, eyes now closed and hands still clasped, enjoying each others presence.

"Ashley?"

"Hmm."

"What was your first kiss like?"

"What's with the flashback questions?"

"Nothing, I just want to get to know you better." I explain.

"I'll tell, if you'll tell yours first."

"Okay, uhm. I was ten and me and my friends were playing hide and seek. I had my eyes closed and was counting, while the rest of them were hiding when suddenly I felt a pair lips on me. I opened my eyes and there was Kevin Deans aka the glue-eating-guy smiling smugly at me. I swear, I literally washed my mouth with soap, cause I thought I was going to die an awful and slow death of cootitis."

"Ever the drama-queen I see." She chortles lightly.

"Just keepin' it real. Now. Your turn." I insist, before she changes her mind.

"God, is this going turn into one of those 'share-a-stupid-secret'-slumber parties?"

"Yes. Now, spill." I say as I bring her hand to my mouth and softly kiss it before returning it back in between our resting bodies.

"I was nine when my best friend back then, asked me if I ever had kissed someone. I told him I didn't and he told me he didn't either. He then asked me if I wanted to feel how it felt and I told him I did. And he took that as his cue to kiss me."

"And then …"

"And then I punched him." She shrugs.

"Huh, why?" I let out, genuinely confused.

"I said I wanted to know how it felt, I didn't say 'jump on me and make me feel it'. Besides he was an awful kisser. Bastard totally ruined my first kiss." She grunts humorously.

A few silent minutes pass again and I've never felt any more comfortable with anyone, then with her right at this moment. She's my soothing calmness.

My restful comfort.

"Ashley?"

"Hmm"

"I want to kiss you again." I whisper.

"Me too." She responds even more silently.

A beat.

"They why don't we?" I enquire curiously.

"I don't know …"

"Should we try or …"

"I don't want to kiss you now."

"Oh." I let out disappointed

"No, it's not like that. I just … I don't want to kiss you on cue. I want it to be spontaneous and unexpected, not calculated and forced."

I let her clarification linger in my head for a few moment, before I come up with a conclusion of my own.

"You know, for a badass, you're a total softie."

"I am not." She counters half-offended, half-amused.

"Yes, you are."

"I'll kick your ass if I want to."

"Then why don't you?" I challenge.

"I don't wanna." Is her lame response.

"Softie." I tease.

"Shut up." She says as she lifts herself lightly and hovers above me.

"Hi, I'm Ashley Davies, and I'm softie." I continue taunting her, while mimicking her tone.

"I swear Carlin, stop it or you're gonna regret it." She threatens while pointing at me with her finger.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do Da-"

And suddenly her lips are on mine. Those same luscious, tender and soft lips I've been craving for weeks. The lips that I couldn't get out of my head, no matter how much I tried. The lips I couldn't stop staring at whenever we were engaged in a conversation. No matter how hostile or sweet the words were she spoke, I always ended up envying them. I envied them because they got to roll over her slick tongue and slip through those sweet, moist lips. You're probably thinking that I'm mad, for envying shapeless words. But you couldn't possibly understand my feelings and sentiments. Not as long as you actually see what I see, and feel what I feel. No description will ever be worthy of her beauty.

Am I mad?

I have no idea.

The kiss is tender, sweet and pleasantly rough all at the same time. Just like her.

Lips barely brushing each other. It's almost as if we are whispering our deepest emotions and declaring our sweetest love through each others mouths. This isn't just a kiss. This is the beginning of our love story. This is the end of our past lives. The end of her agony. The end of my judgmental self.

This is our unifying pact.

She parts her lips from mine, urging me to kiss her back. Challenging me to give in to this oblivion, this dream. She's asking me a question, begging me for a response. I urgently pull her down to me again and reconnect our lips. They move on an accord of their own, with a sense of urgency and passion. She presses herself into me and I swear I've never felt any more alive than at that exact moment. I can't take it anymore. I have to feel her. Touch her. Taste her. I've been waiting so long for this. But not too long.

Just long enough.

I needed this time. She needed this time. We aren't just any other girl in each other eyes. She's mine and I'm hers.

My tongue slides out of my mouth and tastes those perfect lips. I hear some faint moans and heavy breathing in the background. Not knowing for sure, who it belongs too. Not that it matters since at that point, we are one. She opens her mouth ever so slightly, just enough for my tongue to slip in that warm cave of hers. Our tongues dance to the sweetest of serenades, discovering and re-discovering each other over and over again. Only parting when left completely breathless. Her damp forehead is pressed onto mine and my eyes are still closed. Afraid to open them and look into hers. Afraid to grasp the intensity and importance of this situation.

There really is no turning back. This is it. I slowly flutter my eyes open and find hers already open wide. Dreamily gazing into mine with those chestnut brown pools. That's when I knew. I'm so painfully sure of it and I ask myself again;

Am I mad?

God, no.

Just madly in love.