I'm sitting next to her,
my arm around her,
her resting on me,
on the couch.
She's comfortable,
she's relaxed.
Her gaze meets mine.

Her lips don't quiver.
There's no fire in her eyes.
There's not a frown,
a smile,
a smirk,
raised or furrowed brows.

There's just a slight hint of something beneath her casual calm.
She may barely even know it's there.
And her lips never move, but I hear a whisper.

"Love me"