He makes me a nervous mess, zipping up my dress, and my hands tremble. The feeling I have with him makes me feel alive, sexy, and whole again. It is our fifth date, Owen and I, staring nervously in the mirror. Is my red lipstick too much? Doubting myself.
My phone buzzes in my hand; it's time to go.
A black car pulls up, and I hop in. His warm smile greets me. My breath catches, I smile back, his hand rests relaxed in the middle, I brush my fingers over his.
"I think I finally picked the perfect spot," he says.
"I can't wait," I reply.
He parks, gets out, holds the door open for me, and I take his hand. His hand never strays from mine until we are seated. Sushi is my favorite thing, of course, I have to get the California Roll.
He leans in closer, "I thought since you mentioned sushi last time, this place would be good." he paid attention, I give him quiet kudos for listening. Not many men do.
"It is, this place is perfect." I say, brushing a stray hair from my face. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous; his eyes lock onto me, grounding me.
Our drinks and food arrive, and he makes me laugh--it's too much--I snort,as my face turns red from embarrassment. It's the same as four dates ago. It isn't off-putting to him, I don't have to hide, I can just be.
Once were done, we walk back toward the car. The night is cold and I start to shiver, he slips his jacket over my shoulders.
"I had fun tonight, I hope you enjoyed yourself," he says.
"I did" unable to say anything more, not until we stood in front of my door, "Want to come in?" I ask, shyly.
"Yeah, if you're sure," his smile relaxed.
I fumble for my keys, choosing the right one is difficult. He turns on his phone flashlight, helping me. Since I have forgotten to turn the porch light on again. I managed to unlock the door and turn the lights on. I bring my eyes to his. My heart is pounding; I think he may be able to hear it. I gesture toward the sofa.
"You can sit. I will make us some tea." I kick off my shoes and head toward the kitchen.
I sit down with two mugs. He is sitting back on the sofa, arms outstretched, watching me intensely. I make sure to move with intent, I'm not trying to force anything tonight.
"You make it so easy to be around you," his voice quiet.
"One of my many positive qualities," I reply, matching his tone, "I have dessert in the fridge, it's a strawberry cake with whipped cream."
"That sounds great", he says
I brought out a small cake, perfect for two, passing him a fork, and I drag my finger through my half of the cream, bringing it to my lips. I lick it off slowly. I watch his gaze, something shifts in his eyes. He puts down the plate on the table, his eyes mere inches from mine.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, looking over at the mugs still full and cake with a bite taken out of it.
"Yeah", he whispers, "everything is more than okay".
Closing the distance. I have no desire to move; the room is suddenly warmer, making my head spin. Four dates ago I wouldn't have let him touch me, use me, without knowing him. The feeling is different tonight, I force myself to be calm, and steady.
His hand rests on my knee, the heat branding my skin. His eyes settle on my lips. Before grazing his lips over mine, I feel the eagerness-- our breaths intertwining, teasing, slow.