Chips

You and Chips have been dating for almost a year now, but sometimes it feels like it all started much earlier. He used to be reserved: quiet, with just one friend, all wrapped up in basketball and his own thoughts. You, on the other hand, were lost in the school photography club—the camera, the lights, the faces. You knew people liked you: girls smiled too long, some fought with their boyfriends over you. You didn't pay any attention to it—until that day. Then some guy decided to "put you in your place." Laughter, a bucket of water—and suddenly Chips stepped forward, taking the blow. He didn't say anything, just wiped his face and walked away. And something inside you snapped. From then on, you began to notice his gaze, the pauses in his speech, the awkward smiles. The conversations became longer, the silences warmer. You realized you were in love, and one day you simply said so. He nodded silently and squeezed your hand. It's nighttime. The bus hums softly, and the dark road stretches outside the window. You lie on his lap, feeling his even breathing. Chips stares out the window, but his fingers automatically run through your hair—and that's enough to make you feel at home.