When we pulled up to his building, I parked and killed the engine. For a second, neither of us moved. Then Zack turned toward me, his smile small but warm.
“You really went all out tonight ,” Zack remarked.
“Guess I just wanted to make a good impression.”
“You did,” he said. “Trust me.”
Something unspoken lingered there, a question neither of us voiced. I tried not to hope too obviously, but my pulse gave me away.
“Do you want to come in?”
I swallowed, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Inside Zack’s apartment,the lights were dim. Zack turned on some music so soft jazz played faintly from a speaker somewhere.
The scent of the flowers I’d brought still lingered in the air, mingling with something warm. Cinnamon, or maybe it was just him.
Zack shrugged off his jacket and hung it by the door. I followed suit, suddenly aware of how close we were in the small entryway.
Our shoulders brushed again, and neither of us moved away.
“I had a really good time tonight,” Zack said, his voice lower now, softer around the edges.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”
For a moment, we just stood there, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, see the tiny flecks of gold in his storm blue eyes.
Then he smiled and the tension that had been building all night snapped like a live wire.
“Come here,” I said.
Zack didn’t need to be told twice. When Zack was within touching distance, I tugged him close and kissed him. The kiss started slow but this time, the restraint didn’t last long.
I leaned in, closing my hand on the back of his neck. Zack responded instinctively, and I pulled him closer.
Every thought scattered. I could still taste tiramisu on his lips, and hear the faint sound of his breath catching between kisses.
His scent mingled with mine, grounding and intoxicating all at once. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, quick and strong, matching my own.
The warmth that started between us deepened, spreading until my skin felt too tight, every nerve alive.
When we finally broke apart, he was still close enough that our foreheads touched.
“Maybe we should—” he started, then paused, searching my face. “You want to stay awhile?”
I nodded, unable to form words.
He smiled, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “Come on.”
He led me through the softly lit apartment, past the little table where the flowers now stood, and into his bedroom.
It was simple but comfy. Warm wood furniture, soft bedding, a faint glow from the lamp beside the bed. He turned to me, eyes flicking briefly to my lips again.
The air between us felt charged all over again, like we’d stepped into some delicate, suspended moment that could shatter if we breathed too hard.
I lifted a hand, tracing the edge of his jaw with my fingers, feeling the faint stubble there.
“You sure?” I asked quietly.
