How did practice go? Is it pathetic that I miss you already?
I smile like an idiot. I’m fully aware of it.
Rough start. Coach yelled. Might’ve been thinking about a certain girl instead of skating because I miss you more.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.
Hmmm. I might like that a lot.
My chest tightens in the best way.
Not if you actually want to see me play.
I guess that’s true.
I’m on my way home.
Can’t wait.
I'm considering adding another text, maybe something flirty or even explicit. But I leave it. Choosing to show her exactly how I feel when I get home.
The drive home is short, but somehow feels slower than usual. My mind keeps replaying the past two days in flashes—her smile in the candlelight, her body beneath mine, her quiet confessions, the way she trembled when she let me see all of her. It’s dizzying how much I already miss her even though I saw her a few hours ago.
I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. The house looks normal again, warm light glowing from the living room windows now that the power’s back. For a second, I just sit there, gripping the steering wheel, letting the weight of everything settle.
This weekend wasn’t just sex. It was the start of something. I suppose I always hoped it would happen with Miranda, but now that it has, I’m unbelievably excited.
I walk inside, the warmth hitting my skin instantly. The place smells like a combination of dozens of lingering candle scents.
Miranda stands in the kitchen, hair twisted on top of her head, wearing leggings and my sweatshirt—again—which is quickly becoming one of my favorite sights on earth. She’s pouring hot water into a mug and humming to herself.
She turns, and her whole face lights up.
“Hi,” she says softly, like the word itself is a secret.
“Hi,” I echo, closing the distance between us in a few long strides.
She hands me a steaming cup. “I made tea.”
“You made tea?” I ask, quirking a brow.
She laughs. “Well, it was one of the things we picked up on our improvised supermarket sweep game. I thought we should drink it. It’s a raspberry.”
“Raspberry tea?”
“I guess,” she says with a slight shrug. “You want to know something? All tea tastes pretty much the same to me. Isn’t that strange?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not much of a tea drinker.” I take a small sip. “It tastes like tea.”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you.” I set the cup on the counter and pull her into my arms, breathing her in. She fits against me perfectly. I kiss the top of her head, letting myself linger longer than I should.
“Everything good?” I ask quietly.
She nods into my chest. “Better now.”
I hold her a little tighter.
