The first time I saw her, she was a vision in a cafe's soft glow, a lit cigarette dancing between her fingers, a cup of coffee resting beside her. Her dark hair, like spun silk, captured the sunlight streaming through the window. She wore a simple, elegant sleeveless gown, white fabric that clung to her curves, stealing my breath. My heart hammered against my ribs as I approached. "Hi," I managed.
Her eyes narrowed, and she turned away without a word, as if I didn't exist. “Phew, that was cold”. Still, she burned into my mind.
Days later, I found her at the same cafe. A thin veneer of confidence covered the uncertainty swirling within me, yet I went to her. "I sent you a request on Instagram," I blurted, before she could react. I didn't wait for a response, just turned and walked away.
That night, my phone buzzed. An unknown account. It was her. "Why did you send me a request?" the message read, sharp and direct. I hesitated, then typed, " To get to know you."
Her reply was immediate. "I don't talk to rogues and flirts who search for someone and text her without consent." Another blow. Guilt pricked me, but I shoved it aside. "I just sent a request. You're the one who texted me."
A pause. "Fair enough. But to let you know, I'm not single. I have a boyfriend." My heart sank, but the fire within me burned brighter. "It's not wrong to be friends, is it?" Another pause. "I accept. Okay, let's try to be friends, but remember, I'm committed." "Thank you, Madam," I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. "Call me Sam," she replied. "And don't be so formal."
"Sure, dear Sam" A small smile played on my lips. "Good night," she sent.
Over the next few weeks, our chats deepened, from morning wishes to daily updates. She gave me her number, and soon we were talking on the phone. We knew almost everything about each other. One night, during a call, I said, "Heey Sam," my voice soft, "I can't stop thinking about you." She laughed, a light sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You're such a flirt."
"I'm serious," I insisted. "You're incredible." She paused, hesitation thick in the air. "I'm committed, remember?"
"I know," I replied, my voice dropping lower. "But that doesn't change how I feel." She didn't respond, but she didn't hang up. Enough to fuel the fire.
Weeks later, we agreed to meet. The coffee shop was quiet, the air thick with tension.
"Hi," I whispered.
"Hi," she replied, her gaze flickering over me before settling on my face. We talked for hours, about her family, her life, everything but what burned in my mind. But I couldn't hold back. I leaned in, my voice a husky murmur. "Sam, you're breathtaking." Her cheeks turned a deep red. "Stop it," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I mean it", my eyes locking onto hers.
"I've never met anyone like you." She looked down.
"You're dangerous," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. I smiled, my heart racing. Maybe I am.
When it was time to leave, I stood, tense. She hesitated, then stood too. Without thinking, I pulled her into a hug, her body soft and warm. I wanted to hold her forever.
"Bye," I whispered, my lips brushing her ear. She pulled away, eyes wide. "Bye," she said softly.
Later, I texted, "Thanks for meeting. You made my day."
Minutes later, "You're not the bad guy I thought you were. Hehe." I smirked, my fingers flying. "That hurts. So, you like to play with the bad boy, huh?"
There was no response. Shit Did I cross the line?
An hour later, "I'm gonna slap you for talking like this," her reply came with a wink emoji.
"How was the hug?" I countered.
"Good night, my boyfriend is calling. Tomorrow, I'll tell you all about the hug—with him."
The next morning, "Morning, Sam. Did you sleep well?"
"Not really," she typed back. "You've been on my mind."
"Good. I like knowing I'm in your thoughts."
Her cheeks flushed a delicate blush. "You're such a flirt."
"Only with you."
"You're dangerous," she admitted.
"And yet, you're still here."
"I told you I am committed." she said
"Meet me. Tonight. Same coffee shop." I replied, ignoring the desperation.
"I shouldn't." she replied
"I'll be waiting for you, Sam."
That evening, she walked into the coffee shop. I saw her immediately.
"You came." She forced a smile. "I did."
"Please have a seat, Sam."
She hesitated, then slid into the booth. "This is crazy," she whispered.
I leaned forward. "Crazy good or crazy bad?"
"I don't know." She admitted.
I reached across the table, my fingers brushing hers. "Then, let's find out."
Our fingers intertwined, her touch sending a shiver down my spine.
"This is wrong," she whispered.
"Then why does it feel so right?" She had no answer.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I leaned in, my breath warm against her skin. "Everything."
Her heart raced, her mind spinning. She should say no. She knew she should. But instead, she leaned in, our lips brushing into a kiss that was as forbidden as it was irresistible. The world faded. Her lips moved against mine, a slow, intoxicating dance. I cupped her cheek, shivers down her spine.
She broke the kiss suddenly & pulled apart. "I should go," she whispered.
"Okay," I said, too calm. "I'll walk you to your bike."
Sam hesitated. She knew she should say no and should walk away while she still could. But the way I looked at her, i could see shivers running down her spine. She didn't protest as I guided her toward her bike, the presence both comforting and unnerving.
At her bike, I turned, the night air charged with an unspoken promise.
“Miss Sam,” I murmured, her name a soft caress on the stillness.
Her cheeks flushed, a delicate blush in the moonlight.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice a trembling melody, “I should go.”
But she didn't move. Her eyes, luminous and wide, held me captive, & found herself tilting her head up just an inch as if drawn to me by some invisible force. I leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss as fragile as a dream.
The kiss deepened, a slow, intoxicating dance of souls. I pulled her closer, wanting to merge our heartbeats into one. She moaned softly, her hands clutching my shoulders, a silent surrender. The kiss was everything she hadn't realized she was missing- passionate, demanding, intoxicating.
She tasted like coffee and something darker, something forbidden.
“Sam,” I whispered against her ear, my voice a reverent sigh. The sound of her name on my lips was like a spark, igniting something deep inside her, She kissed back more violently, a passionate offering, a silent vow in the darkness.
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the feel of her lips, the heat of her body, the intoxicating scent of her cologne.
But then, the spell broke, reality’s harsh whisper intruding. She pulled away, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes filled with a heartbreaking conflict.
“I'm sorry. I can’t do this. I….” She couldn't finish the sentence.
I didn't stop her, though every part of me screamed to.
I watched as she rode away, her silhouette fading into the shadows, leaving behind the echo of a love that could never be. Her gaze, a lingering, tender ghost, stayed with me long after she was gone.
Her eyes narrowed, and she turned away without a word, as if I didn't exist. “Phew, that was cold”. Still, she burned into my mind.
Days later, I found her at the same cafe. A thin veneer of confidence covered the uncertainty swirling within me, yet I went to her. "I sent you a request on Instagram," I blurted, before she could react. I didn't wait for a response, just turned and walked away.
That night, my phone buzzed. An unknown account. It was her. "Why did you send me a request?" the message read, sharp and direct. I hesitated, then typed, " To get to know you."
Her reply was immediate. "I don't talk to rogues and flirts who search for someone and text her without consent." Another blow. Guilt pricked me, but I shoved it aside. "I just sent a request. You're the one who texted me."
A pause. "Fair enough. But to let you know, I'm not single. I have a boyfriend." My heart sank, but the fire within me burned brighter. "It's not wrong to be friends, is it?" Another pause. "I accept. Okay, let's try to be friends, but remember, I'm committed." "Thank you, Madam," I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. "Call me Sam," she replied. "And don't be so formal."
"Sure, dear Sam" A small smile played on my lips. "Good night," she sent.
Over the next few weeks, our chats deepened, from morning wishes to daily updates. She gave me her number, and soon we were talking on the phone. We knew almost everything about each other. One night, during a call, I said, "Heey Sam," my voice soft, "I can't stop thinking about you." She laughed, a light sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You're such a flirt."
"I'm serious," I insisted. "You're incredible." She paused, hesitation thick in the air. "I'm committed, remember?"
"I know," I replied, my voice dropping lower. "But that doesn't change how I feel." She didn't respond, but she didn't hang up. Enough to fuel the fire.
Weeks later, we agreed to meet. The coffee shop was quiet, the air thick with tension.
"Hi," I whispered.
"Hi," she replied, her gaze flickering over me before settling on my face. We talked for hours, about her family, her life, everything but what burned in my mind. But I couldn't hold back. I leaned in, my voice a husky murmur. "Sam, you're breathtaking." Her cheeks turned a deep red. "Stop it," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I mean it", my eyes locking onto hers.
"I've never met anyone like you." She looked down.
"You're dangerous," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. I smiled, my heart racing. Maybe I am.
When it was time to leave, I stood, tense. She hesitated, then stood too. Without thinking, I pulled her into a hug, her body soft and warm. I wanted to hold her forever.
"Bye," I whispered, my lips brushing her ear. She pulled away, eyes wide. "Bye," she said softly.
Later, I texted, "Thanks for meeting. You made my day."
Minutes later, "You're not the bad guy I thought you were. Hehe." I smirked, my fingers flying. "That hurts. So, you like to play with the bad boy, huh?"
There was no response. Shit Did I cross the line?
An hour later, "I'm gonna slap you for talking like this," her reply came with a wink emoji.
"How was the hug?" I countered.
"Good night, my boyfriend is calling. Tomorrow, I'll tell you all about the hug—with him."
The next morning, "Morning, Sam. Did you sleep well?"
"Not really," she typed back. "You've been on my mind."
"Good. I like knowing I'm in your thoughts."
Her cheeks flushed a delicate blush. "You're such a flirt."
"Only with you."
"You're dangerous," she admitted.
"And yet, you're still here."
"I told you I am committed." she said
"Meet me. Tonight. Same coffee shop." I replied, ignoring the desperation.
"I shouldn't." she replied
"I'll be waiting for you, Sam."
That evening, she walked into the coffee shop. I saw her immediately.
"You came." She forced a smile. "I did."
"Please have a seat, Sam."
She hesitated, then slid into the booth. "This is crazy," she whispered.
I leaned forward. "Crazy good or crazy bad?"
"I don't know." She admitted.
I reached across the table, my fingers brushing hers. "Then, let's find out."
Our fingers intertwined, her touch sending a shiver down my spine.
"This is wrong," she whispered.
"Then why does it feel so right?" She had no answer.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I leaned in, my breath warm against her skin. "Everything."
Her heart raced, her mind spinning. She should say no. She knew she should. But instead, she leaned in, our lips brushing into a kiss that was as forbidden as it was irresistible. The world faded. Her lips moved against mine, a slow, intoxicating dance. I cupped her cheek, shivers down her spine.
She broke the kiss suddenly & pulled apart. "I should go," she whispered.
"Okay," I said, too calm. "I'll walk you to your bike."
Sam hesitated. She knew she should say no and should walk away while she still could. But the way I looked at her, i could see shivers running down her spine. She didn't protest as I guided her toward her bike, the presence both comforting and unnerving.
At her bike, I turned, the night air charged with an unspoken promise.
“Miss Sam,” I murmured, her name a soft caress on the stillness.
Her cheeks flushed, a delicate blush in the moonlight.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice a trembling melody, “I should go.”
But she didn't move. Her eyes, luminous and wide, held me captive, & found herself tilting her head up just an inch as if drawn to me by some invisible force. I leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss as fragile as a dream.
The kiss deepened, a slow, intoxicating dance of souls. I pulled her closer, wanting to merge our heartbeats into one. She moaned softly, her hands clutching my shoulders, a silent surrender. The kiss was everything she hadn't realized she was missing- passionate, demanding, intoxicating.
She tasted like coffee and something darker, something forbidden.
“Sam,” I whispered against her ear, my voice a reverent sigh. The sound of her name on my lips was like a spark, igniting something deep inside her, She kissed back more violently, a passionate offering, a silent vow in the darkness.
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the feel of her lips, the heat of her body, the intoxicating scent of her cologne.
But then, the spell broke, reality’s harsh whisper intruding. She pulled away, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes filled with a heartbreaking conflict.
“I'm sorry. I can’t do this. I….” She couldn't finish the sentence.
I didn't stop her, though every part of me screamed to.
I watched as she rode away, her silhouette fading into the shadows, leaving behind the echo of a love that could never be. Her gaze, a lingering, tender ghost, stayed with me long after she was gone.
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