Our weekend together continued.
Everything was going so well with the handsome man sitting across from me. We needed to eat, finally—and I made him pasta. With tomato sauce and sweet corn.
He opened a bottle of wine. I drank one glass. It was light, fruity… I'm not really into alcohol, so even that one glass was enough. He had two. I could feel a gentle dizziness setting in—for both of us, I think.
Looking at him under the glow of that night, I felt something different. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way he looked at me. Something had changed.
After dinner, we moved to the couch. We played a movie, but watching it was impossible. We were young, full of heat, and nerves and excitement danced between us.
And then… I felt his breath on my neck.
It wasn't just desire. It was longing. It was intimacy.
We had waited so long. And now, finally, we kissed.
I was 22—maybe 23. His lips were soft. My head spun, but it wasn't just the wine. It was him. The man I loved.
He kissed me for a long time. His mouth found my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair.
It was more than chemistry. It was a pull I couldn't fight.
Would a lifetime be enough to forget you, Chris?
We slept together that night. I woke up with a slight headache in the morning. I kissed him to wake him—once, twice… ten times. I couldn't get enough of him. I never did.
He smiled in that way I loved, and then he laughed.
His voice echoed in the room—deep and warm. I told you, he was a work of art.
But then came breakfast. And then came goodbye.
I was in the kind of scene where you never want to leave. My sweet Chris, leaving you was always hard. Reaching you—always harder still.