The window in your bedroom was positioned in what you thought was the most perfect area of the house, where the roof slanted downwards so you could lie up there for hours. When you met Liam, your best friend, and you showed him this particular spot, he declared it "your spot," the place where you guys would go and talk and relax. He found ways to climb up there without actually entering your house, that way he could knock at your window at even the most ungodly hours.
A little past the time he usually arrived, when the time on your phone read 2:37 AM, there was a light tapping at your window, quiet at first, but louder with each passing second that you didn't open the window. You rushed over to it, opening the window with such force that Liam, who had been leaning against it, almost fell on top of you. You tried to ignore the blush that was probably bright on your cheeks by now, focusing your attention on Liam.
"You almost killed me," he said accusingly, a bright smile already making its way across his face, showing you that he was just joking around. Unable to restrain yourself, you wrapped your arms around his waist, giving him a tight hug. He responded instantly, his head on your shoulder as he breathed in the scent of your shampoo.
"I almost thought you weren't coming," you told him after a moment, when he reluctantly released you and decided to awkwardly turn away to hide how red his face was now. He busied himself with climbing back out the window, lying down on the roof and waiting for you to take up your spot next to him, like always.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Y/N. You know that." You grinned at him, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he always thought. Liam had always acknowledged that you were effortlessly gorgeous, but sometimes it would just hit him again, and he could barely breathe. He had long since learned to control his heartbeat, so thankfully that was under control, or you would have been bale to hear how frantic it was. Saying that you made him nervous would be an understatement; it didn't matter that you had been his best friends for years already, he had always had a crush on you. At first it had been small, something he hoped would go away eventually, but it just kept growing and growing, and now here he was.
Naturally, the same applied to you, except you were prone to denying it with a flush on your cheeks and your heart pounding in your chest, signaling the lie. Your feelings for him made you extremely uneasy, especially since you were so sure his feelings for you were strictly platonic and you were desperate to keep him thinking that you felt the same, just so your friendship stayed intact.
You took a deep breath before forcing yourself to lie down next to him, using all your self control to stare up at the stars above you both instead of the beautiful boy who was so close to you. If you reached out just a little, you could probably hold his hand. Not that you were thinking about holding his hand. At all. And he definitely wasn't thinking the same about you.
Despite how hot it was outside, you shivered slightly, and Liam noticed almost immediately. "Are you cold? Do you want my sweatshirt?" He began pulling off the lacrosse sweatshirt, but you grabbed his wrist before he could do so. His blue eyes flickered between your hand and your face, and he licked his lips out of nervous habit.
"It's okay, Liam. I'm fine, I promise." You smiled reassuringly, moving just a little closer to him. If you hadn't been so focused on trying to settle your own heart, you would've heard how hard Liam's was pounding upon noticing that you were extremely close to him. Not that he minded much, of course. "You're always so sweet, did you know that?"
Knowing he wouldn't be able to answer you without his voice cracking and stumbling over his words, he stayed quiet. You took his silence for something bad, and started to shift over. With a sudden burst of confidence and a will for you to stay close, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. You sighed in content, wrapping your own arm around his waist.
"Is this okay?" He asked softly, not quite looking at you.
"Yeah, definitely," you replied in an equally quiet voice, suddenly even more nervous than you had been before. You stole a glance at him, admiring the way the stars looked reflected in his bright blue eyes. You always loved his eyes, and you'd actually told him that on more than one occasion. You looked up as well, resting your head on his shoulder and staring at the stars, luminous against the dark backdrop of the sky.
One of things you actually liked about Beacon Hills was how you could actually see the stars at night, hundreds of them, all bright and beautiful in the dead of the night. You loved that, being able to watch the stars and the moon in a place where they always shone.
"The stars are just so...I don't know, pretty. They're just pretty, you know?" Liam looked over at you, at your soft smile and your focused gaze.
"Yeah," he hummed in agreement, still staring at you. "But you know what I think?" You dropped your gaze back down to his face as he started twirling a strand of your hair absentmindedly. "I think you're a lot prettier than every single one of those stars up there, combined." He watched apprehensively for you reaction, not sure if he was supposed to have said that, or if you were even comfortable with him saying that.
At first, your expression held evident wonder, like you couldn't believe he had even said that. But then, you relaxed visibly, beaming at him. Before he had the chance to think, your soft hands were cupping his cheeks and your lips were pressed against his own. He kept his eyes open for a second, to process that this wasn't one of his many fantasies, but he shut them just as quickly, a hand sliding cupping the back of your neck and pressing you against him even more. When you finally pulled away, it wasn't because you wanted to, it was because you were both smiling so hard, the kissing part was becoming increasingly difficult.
"I think that I like you as way more than a friend, and that I've felt that way for awhile," you murmured as he traced your jaw with his fingertip and played with your hair.
"I think I feel the same way, and that I really want to kiss you again and again and again, all the time. Everyday," he added, his fingers tangled in your hair and voice hoarse.
"So shut up and kiss me, Dunbar," you whispered. And finally, after all the years of waiting, he was able to do what he had always wanted. He kissed you.
Again and again and again.
