He watched my chest blooming red filigree while I watched his smirk knowing he saw what happened beneath my skin. That electric purr running along my veins, racing the arteries to get to my heart, the organ he quickened. I knew from that smirk spreading across his face that all of it underneath the soil was cropping up, growing. He had buried it deep inside him where he thought I couldn't see. But here's the problem with someone who knows about blooms across skin and smirks across faces that hide things in marrow and bones: I know what's buried deep beneath, there is no hiding from a hider. He said he was scared, he hid his face in the pillows and told me I scared him. My favorite complement, next to "you're a challenge." I felt my eyes brighten. I knew I had him from that first kiss and I knew every time he plunged a little deeper under my water from all those looks. His eyes sometimes flickered like sunlight across a sea while he looked at me across a table or from the corner of his eye. His laughter had become a wild horse set free to roam across the moment and all my stupid silly doings.

"Should I not have told you?" I asked his lips while they pressed into mine, easier to say while our eyes are shut.
"No, yes." He stuttered, eyes still closed to keep me out, keep it all buried deep, but I already knew. "I love you too"
"I know."

Maybe I am cocky. At least I'm always spot on. Or have been so far.