Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 138

We do, and I sit across from him, presents and candles between us on the table. Before I can take a bite, Kent speaks his mind. "You're too far, come around to this side," he whispers, touching the chair on the perpendicular edge of the table.

I smirk, getting up and moving. I guess that stuff was in the middle of the table, too hard to hold hands and all.

I've come to understand that Kent's love language was physical touch. It didn't matter where we were, and I noticed it before we even started dating. He wanted to sit next to me, hold my hand, or hug me. Sex was so huge for him because it was so physical.

Mine was probably acts of service or possibly quality time. There was nothing quite like when Kent wanted to spend time with me and only me.

"What are you thinking about over there?" He teases, and I shrug.

"What my love language is," I shrug, and he laughs, poking his fork into two noodles and eating them a second later.

"Oh shit, that's delicious," he mumbles, and I laugh.

"See what happens when we eat carbs?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, waving me off. "Why are you thinking about that?"

"I don't know, I feel like yours is obvious," I shrug, and he furrows his eyebrows. "Yours is physical touch, come on, baby."

He seems to think on that for a minute before raising his eyebrows and nodding. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Hence the 'come over here, you're too far' thing," I explain, trying some of my own dinner. He wasn't wrong; I'd done a good job this time.

"How many are there?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Types," he answers. "You know, of love."

"Oh!" I laugh, and he chuckles. "I learned about it in my mandatory psych class first year; there's five. Physical touch, acts of service, gifts, quality time, and words of affirmation," I answer, and he raises his eyebrows.

"And....it's what you do to show love or what makes you feel loved."

"Kind of both, it's reflected usually in what you do," I answer with a shrug.

"You're totally acts of service," he snorts, looking like he thought that was incredibly funny. "I can't believe you're confused."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel like you do all five, but.....Juls, come on, I know you and so would literally anyone else," he laughs, and I smile slightly, feeling my cheeks heat up. "You clean the apartment daily, you're organized like crazy, and you always do nice things for people. You baked cookies when you first moved in, look at this whole evening."

"Okay yeah, point taken," I laugh, and he chuckles. "I think you do all five, too, for the record."

"I try," he shrugs, reaching for my hand, and I gladly give it over to him. We finish our food, and I take the dishes to the kitchen, immediately putting them with our others in the dishwasher. When I come back to the table, Kent raises his eyebrows at me as if to say 'See? Acts of service!

"Gifts?" I suggest, and he smiles with a nod.

"Open mine first," he encourages, and I gulp. His is much bigger, much more fancy too. He was a good gift giver.

I open it easily; the box was tied with a beautiful red ribbon. I find a card sitting on top with my name written in his messy writing. We hadn't really done gifts. We hadn't really been official at Christmas, and then we had a messy break.

I open the envelope, finding a nice card inside. He's written a lovely message inside, and I grin, closing it and holding it to my chest.

"That was sweet," I mumble, and he chuckles.

I set it down and pull back the tissue paper inside, opening up a carefully wrapped set of bubble-wrapped items. I furrow my eyebrows, picking one up, and Kent clears his throat.

"It's the tea set you looked at while we were away," he answers. "The one with the flowers."

My eyes widen, and I look back at him, nearly feeling it slip from my fingers, but I manage to keep my grasp. It was four cups, four saucers, and the teapot. All with the same beautiful blue and white flowers.

"Oh my god, how on earth did you get it here?" I ask, unwrapping the first mug carefully with a smile.

"Cali, I asked her to go back and get it for me, and I packed it into my suitcase that night," he answers with an easy shrug. "Remember when you told me I was an idiot for suggesting it?" He laughs, and I smile, setting the mug down and hopping up to throw my arms around him.

"It's so beautiful," I whisper, and he chuckles softly, squeezing me tightly. "I love it."

"I don't know what you'll do with it, but you seemed into it when we looked at it," he shrugs, and I pull back.

"I'll keep it safe," I whisper. "Thank you so much, it's perfect."

"I'm glad you like it," he insists, kissing my cheek. "There's something else in there too."

I furrow my eyebrows and sit back down, carefully taking out the various pieces of china and unwrapping them. They all look so nice together, and I can't help but smile.

In the bottom was a box of assorted Lindor truffles. I just laugh, tossing my head back, and he laughs too.

"I remembered you liked them," he shrugs. "Your room was covered in wrappers at Christmas."

"They're my favorite," I nod, feeling genuinely happy. "Thank you, I love it. The whole gift is incredible."

I stand up again, walking over to hug him, and he pulls me down into his lap, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

"I'm so glad," he whispers. His hand reaches out for my card, and I smile, staying put on his lap.

I spent a while writing it; I wanted it to be perfect. It talked about how long I'd loved him, how often he made my days better, how loved I felt when we were together.

When he finishes reading it, he just drops the card on the table, looking amazed. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear with a grin. "I love you," he whispers softly. "Thanks, baby!"

"You didn't open your gift."

"Don't need it," he shrugs. "It could be a bag of garbage, and I'd love it after that."

"Open it," I urge, and he chuckles, taking the bag from the middle of the table. He moves the tissue paper around and pulls out the picture I'd framed for him. It was two pictures in the same large frame, the first was one of the ones we took this weekend. The other was the one from way back when we got into the frat party, the two of us smiling with cups of beer in our hands.

It was my favorite picture for a long time I used to look back on frequently before we even became friends.

"See? We had a picture together just you and me way before this weekend," I tease, and he grins. "Flip it over."

He does, and I smile, looking at the inscription I wrote out just a few hours before.

'I loved you then, I love you now, I'm yours forever

~Axx'

"I know it's no tea set or anything but," he cuts me off with a kiss, and I gasp, hearing the frame of the picture being set back on the table.

"I love it," he mumbles between kisses, not letting me move away, and I smile, kissing him back. "You were so hot that night we snuck into the frat," he adds, and I laugh.

"There was a lot on the line," I whisper back, and he rests his forehead on mine. "Put a lot of time into that outfit."

"You always look good but.....that night was evil," he whispers, making me snort. "It's the first night I really felt like we got along really well. You were having fun, I was having fun, things were working, and that night....that was the first time I really thought I could do things for you. Like, that you saw me differently, and so did I."

"I did," I nod, running my hand through his hair. "That wasn't the first time, but it was the first time you let me in a bit and stopped worrying so much. It was the night I realized you had a personality."

"Very romantic, well said," Kent says, shaking his head. I giggle.

"Be honest," I whisper, moving my hand to the side of his face. "You wanted to kiss me that night, when our foreheads were touching and we were in the wet grass. You were going to kiss me."

"No," he shrugs, moving his hands down to squeeze my waist, and I furrow my eyebrows. "I wanted to kiss you way before that, that was just my first real chance."

"Would you have done it if they left us alone and no one called?" I whisper, and he nods.

"I would have blown our lives open way earlier," he teases, and I laugh. "In a lot of ways, I wish I did that night. In some others, I wish I'd even done our first one right. Mostly... I'm just glad things happened the way they did."

"Me too," I whisper, and he grins. "Besides, you make up for lost time every single day."

"Better believe it," he chimes in, making me laugh. "Thanks for doing all of this, baby. This was great."

"Was?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows and standing up slightly. "We're not done."

"Well... we ate, drank, opened shit, said I love you..."

"You're missing the most important part," I whisper, reaching behind me and drawing my zipper down, slowly pulling my dress up over my body. I watch his jaw tighten, and I toss my dress over the back of the chair, putting my hands on his shoulders.

"What part's that? Huh?" He asks, hands slowly running over my hips, and I press my lips together.

"The best part," I whisper, and he chuckles.

"That's quite the bra," he mumbles, fingertips tracing the cups. "All right 'acts of service,' let's test out that love language," he teases, pulling me down to straddle his lap in the chair, and I roll my eyes.

"You and I both know that that's not what they mean," I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up. I feel his hands move to my bra clasp, and he carefully undoes it, drawing the straps down my arms.

"Only one way to find out," he shrugs. "Lucky for me mine's physical touch." His hands cup my breasts, and I moan, resting my head on his forehead.

"Asshole," I mumble, and he chuckles. "Come to the bedroom, and you might get lucky," I whisper, and he stands up, tossing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. I laugh, feeling thrown off, and my back hits his bed a second later.

I get up, standing in front of him a second later and undoing his shirt button by button. His lips easily press to mine, and I smile, moving to his pants. I undo his belt, then his zipper, reaching my hands inside his boxers.

I wanted this, I wanted him in every single way possible, and I was excited for this. Feeling him this close was always exciting.

I easily move down his body, kneeling in front of him and yanking his pants down, setting him free. "Still want an act of service?" I whisper, running my hand back and forth over him, and he tips his head up with a groan. "Because I'd really like to give you one."

"Jesus," he mumbles, and I slowly wrap my lips around him, placing my hands on his waist. I take in as much as I can manage, hearing another groan, and his hands slip into my hair. "Yeah, baby, yeah," he mumbles, and I feel my body grow warm.

Our relationship was full of layers, there was the sweet layer where each of us had nothing but unconditional love for the other. There was the best friend layer where we felt comfortable with each other and teased one another about everything. There was the emotional layer which made us quick-witted and temper-fueled.

Then there was this, the physical layer which always somehow played into the other three. The one that felt easy and intense. The layer that makes all of the other ones work.