Air Mattress pt. 1 "She"

I had this story in my head and needed to get it out.

She

He lays there quietly, without a sound.
I roll over. I toss. I turn. I roll back over. I'm on my stomach now. I can't breathe, my larynx is pressurised by my pillow. Well it's not really my pillow...the other one lent it to me. This storm better pass. I'm scared of what is going on at my own house.
He breathes, his chest rises and falls.
I can't actually tell if he's awake. Should I go up to him and find out? Wait.
I hear movement. He's moving around.
He's awake.
I'll go now. I'll tell him how I feel, what I think inside.
I whisper his name.
He asks what I need.
I pause. I want to tell him but do I have the words? Probably not. I'll end up stuttering or mumbling and most likely making a complete fool of myself.
He asks me what again, making me more nervous.
I tell him it's cold on the air mattress, and if it would make him so uncomfortable if I slept in the bed for that night. Sharing a guest room with him. Sharing a bed. Sharing a. A bed.
He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, I think maybe he's pondering my words, searching for either the negative or affirmative statement in which to correctly use, depending on his thoughts and feelings on the matter.
He says sure.
SURE. Sure is what he says, and I want to leap out and grab him by his perfect face and...! But I filter...and filter...and remain calm.
I slowly get up, as to not wake our gracious host and his family. I climb into the side of which he is not on and pull the covers over myself. As I slide my feet in between the sheets and the covers, my icy foot reaches a warm sensation. He jerks back his bare calf at the touch of my frozen appendage. I apologise. He says it's alright.
I reiterate that I'm still really cold.
After a moment or two, he says in a soft voice for me to come closer to him.
I briefly pause and reflect and ask him for reassurance in his statement, after which I barely have time to breathe before he wraps me in his strength, pulling me close to his chest, heating me not only to the skin, but to the bone, to the soul.
I pass the seemingly hours of shock and now begin to comprehend this situation I have arrived into.
My query to him is the one I have been waiting for since the start of our year: what are his feelings towards me?
It is only semi black outside considering the thick layer of storm-grade snow and ice on the ground, so his face is lit to a calming dark blue shade, accentuating the highlights and shadows on his face as his pulls me away from him. We sit up.
What happens next.
What actually happens next was that of dreams.
They are soft. Like rose petals. And he was soft. Like the dew that gently presses itself against the flower's stem and collects in pools amongst the folds of hue.
This is most definitely his first kiss but most definitely not his last.
We stare at each other for a while and I ask him why he waited until now to say anything.
Honestly I should ask myself the same question but that's beside the point.
He says he isn't quite sure.
I take that as an answer.
However, he is not expecting anything else to happen, which is nice because neither am I.
Him and I. Laying there. Beneath a blanket of our own awkward attempt at affection, simply breathe. There is no lust. Only the pleasant company of another human being. Breathing in and out. Chests rising an falling.
We lay there quietly, without a sound.