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"Are you sure about this, Laura?", she questioned. She was sitting in bed, holding her phone up to her ear and holding a shirt on the other.
"Absolutely, I almost want to see his dumb face when he sees you.", her sister said, in strained exasperation, "I'm tired of you two pining for eachother, so get this over with, already!"
"Jesus Christ, fine! I'll tell you how it went afterward." A huff was heard on the other side.
"You better.", and then her sister hung up, ending the conversation right there.
It still seemed like a bad idea, but she was too far in it now to back down, so she changed into the shirt she had been holding, now slightly crumpled from her grip, and tried to smooth it out.
That call must have been going on for longer than she had thought though, because she heard the front door open and a voice echo through the apartment.
"Lydia, I'm here, your sister told me you wanted to see me?" Damn it, Laura.
She scrambled to get ready to go, taking a once-once at herself and deeming it acceptable. She opened the bedroom door quietly and walked out, trying not to alert him before reaching whatever room he was in.
She heard Andrew call out one more time, this time, from the living room, "Lydia? You home?"
"Behind you." He turned at the sound of her voice, mind going blank once he processed what he saw.
There she stood, in the doorway. Wearing his shirt. God favored him today, it seems.
"Wh-" He didn't even get to finish his question before Lydia walked closer, making him swallow.
"Andrew...", she drawls in an overly sweet tone. If her tone or face betrayed her nervousness, he didn't mention it.
In fact, his head turned away from her immediately in a red-toned blur. Lydia took his flush as a sign to go on.
"Oh, Andrew, won't you look at me?", she asked, taking his cheek in her hand and turning his face toward her.
His knees went weak and buckled at the simple gesture, making him stumble into her arms, much to her surprise.
"Lydia, I can't", he gripped the shirt, above where her heart would be, hiding his face into her shoulder.
"Why not, dearest?" She might have gone crazy at some point but she could have sworn his breath hitched at being called dearest. Huh.
When he didn't answer, she simply turned to him, trying to look at him, only to see a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before.
He looked at her, turning his head away from her shoulder. His gaze flickered down to her lips, then further down and suddenly snapped back up, expression turning almost shameful.
"I don't deserve to see you like this”, he finally admitted. Lydia just looked at him, confused, so he continued, "I don't deserve you."
"How could you say that? I don't understand”, she looked at him, her eyes ever so understanding. Beneath it all, her anxiety thundered, thinking she did something wrong.
Quietly, he let himself slip away, kneeling before her with almost religious intention. "I am undeserving, because I'm here and all I can think about is want. Need, even."
She stared at him, shock completely erasing her previous anxiety. He wants her? He feels the same?
She felt a confidence to keep going bloom in her chest, so she decided to play into it.
"Who said you wouldn't deserve me for that? Maybe I want you to want me.", she lightly tilted his head up with her hands cupping each side, "Show me how much you want me, and I'll decide if you deserve me."
Andrew's eyes went wide, keeping her gaze for a moment before dropping it to her lips again. Then, he pulled her down frantically by the fabric of her - his? - shirt, the cotton fabric tensing under the force.
Their lips smashed together, the worshipful desperation clear in the way his moved. If she was shocked before, now her eyebrows shot all the way up to her hairline.
Once the shock passed, she responded in equal want, her hands slipping to his back. He shuddered at that, slipping his hands down and under the garment, trapping her waist in a reverent hold.
"Lydia...", he had half a thought to finish that sentence but he lost that train of thought, once he felt her fingers lightly graze down his spine and then pulling him impossibly closer.
She felt him melt within her grasp, her name slipping like prayer down his lips. Was this what the Gods left once worshiped? Adored even?
Once they parted, an always-too-short minute later, they stared at the other with unfiltered abandon, a flush on their cheeks.
She straightened up, skin dyed a deeper red as she spoke and offered him her hand, "I think you've proved enough."
He took her hand in his and looked at her, hope in his eyes, "Does this mean you feel the same, then?"
She felt laughter bubble up and escape, helping him up from the floor, "I wouldn't kiss back if I didn't, Andrew."
He smiled, hugging her close, "I'm glad then."