He studied her expression carefully, as if the slightest mistake in reading her would have disastrous results. How that could actually be was a mystery in itself. There wasn't much that could go wrong if he got the wrong impression about how she was feeling about the movie onscreen. Right?
He didn't really care about the movie, if he was completely honest with himself. It was an excuse to spend time with her and to see her outside of the organised chaos of their daily lives - their work lives, some might say. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
She was focused so entirely on the movie that he allowed himself to stare at her, unguarded for a moment. Beauty was something he had always thought she pulled off, but here now, by his side, she was perfection. She wasn't perfect per say - he didn't believe there was anything entirely perfect in the universe - but that was what made her, made this moment, perfection. In his mind it was everything he could ever hope or dream for.
He sensed movement and quickly flicked his gaze back to the movie. The credits were rolling. He frowned when she stood and stretched. It hadn't been enough time. He wanted her to stay.
He slumped back into the couch and watched her. She glanced at him and smiled and then moved over to the VCR to remove the DVD, bending over and giving him something more to look at in the process. The click as she put the DVD in its case was too loud. The second click as she got out a new DVD was unexpected.
She returned to the couch and he pulled her into his side, looping an arm loosely around her shoulders.
The next movie began to play.
Their fingers met and entwined and once again, he was lost from the events onscreen, too caught up in the woman beside him to notice or care.