He's quiet once I stop rambling and, ordinarily, I'd probably feel pretty dumb or at least be nervous about his reaction, but if all the beer is good for one thing, it's calming the unease. At least a little bit.

Still, the press of Derek's lips to my temple makes me go warm all over and I squeeze his hand tight again, leaning into it. It feels nice. I can't help but wonder what his lips would feel like elsewhere, how the scratch of his beard would feel on my chin instead--

Oh goodness, stopping that train of thought right now.

"You don't have to say anything," I tell him, bumping him lightly with my shoulder. "Just know that I mean every word and try to believe it. I know it can be hard, but if you trust me at all, you know it's nothing but sincere."

We're getting pretty close to my apartment building now and I almost wish we could slow down. Being out here with Derek is so nice after the choas of the day. It's cold and quiet and the snow looks beautiful. I know it doesn't mean the same to him, but that's okay. I just hope I'm not too drunk to forget any of this tomorrow. This right here is a memory I'd like to keep.