Him

She was gently awakened to the sound of an empty Merlot bottle rolling around lazily on the ever-so-slightly crooked floor. It took her a second to register where she was. Her head felt a little fuzzy. She rolled to her side, the creaky bed springs bringing back a sudden memory flash from the night before. He was still asleep, his naked back to her. She couldn't resist, and reached out to stroke a finger down that perfect caramel skin, admiring the strong muscles. It almost didn't seem real to her, to be waking up next to him after a night that felt almost like a dream.

"Hi," he almost whispered, turning to face her with a slow smile, eyes still closed. "Morning," she murmured back, wondering if she should kiss him. Before she could decide, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. "You smell intoxicating." She blushed, not knowing what to say. He had this way of completely disarming her, a sudden compliment that she usually would have never believed, but that he made seem so real, so true. He seemed so peaceful in her arms, already dozing off again, and she turned her thoughts to the night they had just shared, trying to lock every detail into her memories forever.

After a rough break up with her ex nearly over a year ago, she had found it hard to connect with anyone else. Dating apps, blind dates, friends setting her up, nothing seemed to work till she met HIM. It was instant, it was electric, the kind of thing you read about in romance novels but never expect actually exists. He had her hooked since his hazel eyes met hers as they both reached for the same hoodie at a local clothing store. "I could lie and say it's for someone else, but I just really like men's hoodies," she had said to him, slightly embarrassed. He had laughed, and oh, just that sound, and the way his eyes crinkled! "I can let you have it," he'd said to her, nodding at the hoodie. "Or I can buy it and maybe you can borrow it some time?" It was simple, maybe even a little cheesy, but there was just something about him, and the playful way he said it. It wasn't his looks (though he was certainly attractive), it was something more powerful, an undeniable connection. She couldn't quite put her finger to it in that first meeting, and she still couldn't after last night, but it was special.

They exchanged numbers that day and texted back and forth for a few days. He seemed to be holding off a little, she could sense it. There was something just slightly broken, something haunted about him. That only made her want to know him better and only added to her intrigue. He hadn't brought up meeting her again and there was now nothing else she could think of, thoughts of seeing his face again consumed every waking moment. So one day, while having some drinks at a friend's place, emboldened by the excellent Merlot she was sipping on, she texted him and said she is coming over. She half expected an excuse, more mystery, but to her relief, he just texted her the address and said he'll be waiting. She grabbed the half-drunk bottle of Merlot off the table, bid her friend a rushed goodbye and hailed the first cab she found outside.

On the way over, her intoxication seemed to die down a little and now she was suddenly nervous. What if she had imagined the connection she felt? What if he didn't like her? Worse, what if he was a serial killer? It was too late now, and nervous though she was, the closer she got, the more that changed to giddy anticipation. When she got there and he opened the front door, she instantly knew she had been worrying for nothing. All of the feelings came flooding back and she didn't want to be anywhere else.

They somehow talked about everything and nothing that night. Every second, every moment with him was easy. It just flowed, their energy, their conversation. They switched between light banter to much more serious conversations about their childhoods and past relationships, their hopes and fears and dreams. There were some things she would never ever forget about that night. The way his fingers were intertwined with hers as he told her stories about his school days, the way the moonlight poured in through the window he hadn't drawn the curtains to, the smoky-sweet smell from the tobacco and vanilla scented candle he had lit, how intense but tender his expression was as he told her she was gorgeous. She understood him a little better that night, why he had seemed so closed off. It was the classic reason, fear, fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, of hurting and being hurt. She listened, she held him close and had never felt so connected with anyone. It was the same fears she had and that night she finally believed that she had found someone she could work them out with. They would do it together.

There were some moments of passion too that night. Every time his lips touched any part of her skin, her very soul seemed aflame. She had never experienced this primal a feeling and it left her gasping for more. But they held off, this was just the first of many nights, they had a lifetime yet. She was content just holding him close, a part of her still not believing this was actually happening, even as his fingers caressed her hair.

She barely slept that night, still just soaking in every second of the most magical night as he slept peacefully next to her. Eventually all the Merlot kicked in and she drifted off to sleep but despite the mild hangover, she woke up feeling more rested than she had in weeks.

Now as her mini recap of the perfect night ended in her head, she looked at him again and smiled softly to herself. She was home.