Hand Grab
Cotswolds — February 2025
The internet was still talking about the photo the next morning.
Leah unfortunately knew this because Beth Mead sent her approximately fourteen screenshots before 9am.
Leah threw her phone dramatically onto the bed.
"This is harassment."
Elle looked up from where she sat cross-legged beside the window drinking coffee.
"You literally grabbed my ass."
"It was affectionate."
"It was possessive."
Leah considered this carefully.
"...fair."
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
Rain had stopped overnight leaving the countryside cold and silver outside the cottage windows.
Their last morning.
Which neither of them wanted to acknowledge yet.
Leah stood beside the bed pulling on a hoodie while Elle watched her quietly over the rim of her mug.
And God.
That still happened constantly now.
Watching each other.
Like both of them were still slightly amazed this existed.
"You know what's concerning?" Elle murmured softly.
"What?"
"You look very boyfriend this morning."
Leah blinked once.
"That feels homophobic somehow."
"It's the grey joggers."
"Ah."
Fair.
Very fair.
Elle smiled into her coffee while Leah climbed back onto the bed beside her.
Close immediately.
Always close.
The mattress dipped beneath Leah's weight before she leaned forward stealing a slow kiss that tasted like coffee and sleepy morning breath.
Domestic.
Dangerously domestic.
When they pulled apart, Leah stayed there for a second, forehead resting lightly against Elle's.
Quiet.
Then softer—
"I don't want to leave yet."
The honesty in her voice settled warmly between them.
Because neither did she.
The cottage had done something strange to both of them.
Slowed everything down.
No football noise.
No city noise.
Just waking up together and cooking badly and walking muddy trails while Leah incorrectly identified farm animals with complete confidence.
"You told me a sheep was Scandinavian yesterday," Elle reminded her.
Leah looked deeply defensive.
"It had the energy."
That finally made Elle laugh properly again.
And God.
There it was.
That sound Leah had become completely addicted to.
Leah smiled helplessly before pulling her closer underneath the duvet despite it being nearly midday.
"You're clingy lately," Elle murmured softly against her shoulder.
"Yes."
No hesitation anymore.
No pretending otherwise.
Just yes.
The simplicity of it still ruined Elle slightly every time.
Then quieter—
"You know what Katie texted me after the photo?"
Leah groaned immediately.
"I don't want to know."
"She said—and I quote—'Leah Williamson gripping ass in the countryside was not on my 2025 bingo card.'"
Leah physically covered her face with one hand.
"I need new friends."
"No," Elle laughed softly. "You need less public affection."
Leah lowered her hand just enough to look at her properly.
"Counterpoint."
"What?"
"You looked very good in that hoodie."
God.
The confidence of it.
The quiet possessiveness underneath it.
Elle shook her head smiling while Leah leaned in kissing along her jaw slowly, lazily, like they had absolutely nowhere else to be.
And maybe for these two days—
they didn't.
The kisses deepened naturally after that.
Warm hands beneath hoodies.
Sleepy laughter between mouths.
The kind of intimacy that stopped feeling fragile months ago and started feeling safe instead.
Leah pulled back eventually just enough to look at her.
Really look at her.
Messy curls. Sleepy eyes. Morning light across her skin.
And softly—
"You know I'm ridiculously gone for you, right?"
Not dramatic.
Not some huge declaration.
Just truth slipping out quietly between kisses.
Elle smiled instantly.
"Yeah," she whispered softly. "I know."
Leah kissed her again immediately after that because honestly?
There was no emotionally mature response available.
Outside the countryside stayed grey and still around the cottage while inside they remained tangled together beneath blankets pretending checkout time didn't exist.
And somewhere between soft kisses and viral mirror selfies and Leah Williamson learning how to love someone without holding herself back, both women realised something quietly terrifying:
they'd become each other's favourite part of ordinary life.