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“When you are close to Christ, you are enclosed in liberty. You can never be intimidated by man if you are intimate with Christ.”
― Israelmore Ayivor

“Life begins well. It begins enclosed, protected, all warm in the bosom of the house. -Gaston Bachelard”
― Louisa Thomsen Brits, The Book of Hygge: The Danish Art of Living Well

“I reach out and grab the hem of Benny's T-shirt between two fingers, then turn and pull him along behind me as I look for someplace more private. I walk with purpose, as if I have a spot picked out already, which I totally don't. But when I come upon an unoccupied pantry, I pull Benny in after me.
Closing the door, I turn to face him. And find his face reeeal close to mine. The corners of his mouth are starting to tick up in a smile in spite of his efforts to hide it.
"Hey there."
I swallow the heady feeling I get at the sound of his voice this close, low and rumbly. There are only a couple of inches between our chests, no more than that between our faces, which are almost level. This would certainly be easier in, say, an open field.
I press my back flat against the door and clear my throat. "My cardigan. Give it back."
"I enjoyed our conversation on Saturday," he continues in that smooth bass as if I haven't said anything.
"What kind of kidnapper leaves a note identifying themselves as the kidnapper, anyway? What are you playing at?" I bite out with a frustration that is quickly fleeing my body.
Benny's eyes flit down to the floor almost sheepishly. "I don't enjoy what brought on our talk at the cookout, or hearing what you go through. But I was honored that you told me, and I like talking to you. I'd listen to you talk like that every day if you let me."
His words almost stop my breath, despite the weirdness of this situation he's facilitated and the way we're having two totally different conversations. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, but they pop back open when I feel something brush past my hair. Benny stares at me intently, and I register that he's put one palm flat against the door beside my head.
He leans in closer, and I try my damnedest not to notice all the muscles in that arm flexing so close to me, but holy biceps, Batman, and oh my, how much closer can he get before he---
"Reese," he breathes, and I feel the word brush against my lips even though they still haven't made contact with his. I don't think I'm breathing at all.”
― Kaitlyn Hill, Love from Scratch