First Date

1:30 AM. I really should try to sleep.

Now I'm remembering our first date. Three days after we met, you texted me, asking me out for a drink, and maybe dinner. Later, you admitted that it took you three days to pluck up the courage to ask me out, you had the message typed out five minutes after you watched me walk away.

You asked me out to dinner that friday. (It had been a sunday when we met). After about half an hour of procrastinating, I sent a message back, trying to play it cool, saying yh, that wud b kl, pick me up @ 8? x Then I put the address of my flats, and my flat number. You texted back seconds later. Yh. 8 sounds gd. C u then ;) x

I was left smiling, but also stricken, in a major panic over what to wear. I immediately phoned my best girl-friend and told her to come right away and help me pick out an outfit for this date I was going on. I refused to tell her any more about it. In the end, we decided on my pretty, thin-strapped white dress, the one that was covered in hundreds of different coloured flowers, seeing as it was the middle of summer.

On the night, I donned the dress and brushed out my long brown locks, letting them hang their full length, which was past my shoulders. I applied a little make-up, and then grabbed a little white bag and waited anxiously by the door.

When the doorbell rang, I jumped violently, then ran to get it. You were dressed in black jeans and a navy shirt, un-tucked and with the sleeves rolled up. Your hair was slightly damp, and you smelled like Lynx deoderant. I breathed in the scent I would come to love, and then, when you offered your arm, took it.

We strolled to your car - a cool, sleek black convertible BMW - and you held the door open for me, a perfect gentleman. You drove at a reasonable pace, allowing us to chit-chat on the way. You chattered away, making up for my shyness. After you had made me laugh almost a dozen times in under ten minutes, I began to loosen up. I just felt so.. at ease when I was around you.

You took me to a fancy italian place, where I picked at a bowl of spaghetti carbonara, and you neatly ate a pizza, cutting it into mouth-sized pieces and picking them up with your fork. I laughed, saying if only all boys ate like that, the world would be a better place.

Throughout the meal, there was not a moment of awkward silence, and I never felt uncomfortable. You never tried to make a move on me, or anything like that, and paid for the whole meal, along with the drinks and the puddings, at the end of the night. You drove me home, and we stood outside my block of flats, simply staring at eachother.

"Well," You finally said. "I've had a really great time tonight. I'd love to meet up with you again."

"Yeah." I had smiled. Then had come the magical moment.

You had held out your arms for a hug, and I had gone in and embraced you, so much shorter that my head was against your chest. I could feel your hammering heartbeat. Then, as I had begun to pull away, you had taken my face in your hands and kissed me. I had gone up onto my tip-toes, my arms around your neck, and the kiss had continued. When you finally broke away, gasping for breath, we were both awe-struck.

"Tomorrow. I need to see you again." You had whispered. And then you had left, leaving me with just the right ammount of fulfillment and desire.

I knew right from that first kiss, that magical first kiss, that I loved you, and would love you forever. You were just that perfect.

The End

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