Two months.
It started in a club that turned into dinner, and dinners that somehow always ended with one more walk.
Now, your hands find each other without thinking. Matching little bracelets, fingers intertwined like they’ve known the way forever.
He steals your tiny pink camera every chance he gets, insisting your smile belongs in every photo. Half the pictures are blurry because he’s laughing before he even presses the button.
Beach days become your favorite escape. He rests his head on your legs, listening to the waves while you play with his hair, talking about everything and absolutely nothing.
Race weekends are louder than ever, but the moment he spots you after climbing out of the car, the chaos disappears. That smile is always just for you.
On the nights you’re apart, he shows up at your door with flowers “just because,” pretending it’s not a big deal even though he remembered your favorite ones.
Two months isn’t a long time.
But somehow, it already feels like you’ve become each other’s favorite place to come home to.
