#armchair reading

She had so many nervous ticks, and he’d come to know them all. The ones he savoured the most, though, where the self-instigated ones, when she’d do something to surprise him that he knew she found difficult, even though it should be the most natural thing in the world. 

He’d pretend not to notice, pretend to keep reading his book or typing on his laptop as she hovered by the doorway, fiddling with the hem on her skirt, or constantly biting and releasing her bottom lip. She’d only look at him half the time, which allowed him the chance to savour her when she stared at the floor. 

He’d wait until she was looking at him, and he was rereading the same sentence for the fiftieth time, before clearing his throat. In his peripheral, he’d smile at her sudden jump, the instant anxiety that made her eyes wide before she just smiled at her own nervousness and strode in like the beauty that she was.