Bryan had always known what he wanted. Tall, charming, with just the right smile to disarm anyone, he carried the kind of confidence that wasn't born ,it was built, brick by brick, through years of knowing how to win. And this time, his goal was clear "Elizabeth".
Elizabeth was beautiful in that quiet, timeless way. The type of woman who could be overlooked in a crowd but remembered forever after a single conversation. She wore her intelligence like silk soft, elegant, but impossible not to notice.
Bryan met her at a gallery opening, where she stood studying a piece called Fractured Light. The painting was abstract, a swirl of golds and blues confused, disoriented, but still, somehow, beautiful.
"It's chaos," he had said from behind her shoulder, his voice smooth. "But the kind you can't stop staring at."
She turned, surprised, her eyes meeting his. "It's supposed to represent memory."
"Ah," he smiled. "That explains the confusion."
Elizabeth laughed. It wasn't a girlish laugh ,it was real, deep, like she hadn't laughed in a while. He was drawn to it.
From that moment, the pursuit began .
Elizabeth had never been the type to fall quickly. She moved through life with the grace of someone who'd been taught not to trust fairy tales or the people who told them. But Bryan? He didn't feel like a story. He felt like a chapter she'd written herself.
After the gallery opening, he asked her to coffee. Not a flashy place, just a quiet café tucked into a corner of the city where ivy crawled across the windows and soft jazz played from a vinyl speaker. He showed up five minutes early, waiting at a small round table with two cappuccinos and a dog eared copy of The Bell Jar.
"You remembered," she said, surprised, her eyes falling on the book.
"I took notes," he replied with a smirk. "You said it was the first novel that made you cry."
She blinked at him, caught off guard. "Most people don't listen that closely."
Bryan leaned forward. "Then they're not listening to the right things."
Their conversation flowed like warm honey ,slow, sweet, and rich with unspoken depth. He asked about her dreams, her art, the way she painted with emotion instead of structure. He listened not to respond, but to understand. It was unnerving. Intimate.
Their second date was a rooftop dinner. Candles flickered against the city skyline, wind whispering through string lights. He reached across the table, gently brushing a crumb from the corner of her lip. She blushed.
By the third date, she found herself waiting for his texts, checking the mirror twice before she left the house. She hated that part of herself the girl who started to fall but Bryan made it so easy.
He never rushed her. Every touch was patient. Every kiss started with a question in his eyes. He asked about her father's death and didn't flinch when she cried. He made her laugh until she snorted. And when he found out she painted late into the night, he bought her a custom set of brushes the expensive kind she could never justify buying herself.
"You don't have to do that," she said, embarrassed by the gesture.
He leaned in, kissing the corner of her mouth. "I want to."
In those weeks, Elizabeth's world became a little smaller tighter, filled with the sound of his laughter and the way his arms felt around her at dawn. She stopped overthinking. She started sketching him in her journal.
One rainy Saturday afternoon, she invited him over to paint. They sat on the hardwood floor, canvases spread around them, and wine warming their cheeks. Bryan painted a city skyline crooked and childish.
"You're terrible," she giggled, wiping blue paint from his nose.
He grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her closer. "I was hoping you'd say that so you'd have to teach me."
Their kiss tasted like wine and acrylic. It deepened, her hands on his shoulders, his mouth moving with purpose. She felt the familiar flutter in her chest not just desire, but the terrifying whisper of something real.
Later, as they lay tangled on the couch, her head on his chest, he whispered, "You make it easy to fall."
She smiled, eyes half-closed. "That sounds dangerously close to something a heartbreaker would say."
He kissed her temple. "Then maybe I'll surprise you."
Elizabeth didn't see the way his eyes darkened when she mentioned her brother ,how his fingers tensed for the briefest moment, or how quickly he changed the subject. She didn't notice how, despite his warmth, Bryan never quite let her into the corners of his life.
She was too busy falling.
Too busy dreaming of forever.