He didn’t rush. He didn’t ask. He just waited—until I stepped forward and kissed him like I finally knew what I wanted. Him. This. Us. We undressed each other slowly, like every layer meant something. And when his hands found mine, when our bodies met with nothing between them but breath and yes and now, I didn’t feel nervous. I felt chosen. I wasn’t giving something away—I was opening a door. And he didn’t walk through it. He came to me and stayed.