“You love me.”
“Mm. I do.”
They laugh softly into the kiss, and the sound wrecks me a little.
Because this, this right here, is the thing I was always searching for—the closeness, the real connection and constant passion, the easy laughter. It’s everything I ever wanted.
And it was right in front of me the whole time.
“I think our bed is calling us,” I whisper, squeezing their hip.
Korie is already dragging me down the hall before I even finish that sentence.
I know it’s going to be one of those nights the second Korie starts pacing.
They’ve changed shirts twice already, like they can’t seem to settle on anything. There’s a restless, bright energy humming under their skin that’s making them talk louder and faster than usual.
“Okay, how about this one?” they say, turning toward me again, hands spread like they’re presenting evidence. “This one feels more like poetry night, right? Less ‘I just threw something on,’ and more ‘I might cry in public but like, in a cool way.’”
I lean back against the kitchen counter, coffee in hand, and take them in. Soft gray tee, sleeves rolled just enough, worn jeans that cut off above the ankle, and a black belt. Their dark reddish hair is curling at the tips, still wet from the shower.
“You said that about the last one.”
“That one was more—casual introspection. This is intentional vulnerability.” They wave their hands as they say this, as if painting a picture.
I bite back a laugh. “There’s a difference?”
“Yes! A big difference!” They’re smiling now, eyes bright. “You just don’t understand the nuance.”
“Clearly.”
They grab their jacket off the back of the chair, shrug into it, then pause like they’re running through a checklist in their head.
“Okay. Phone. Wallet. Keys.” They pat their pockets, then glance up at me. “Emotional readiness?”
“Mmm.” I take a sip of coffee. “That one’s questionable.”
They snort. “Whatever. You like poetry night.”
I shake my head. “No. I like thatyoulike poetry night. It’s never been my thing.”
They roll their eyes, but there’s no heat in it. Just that same easy openness that still catches me off guard sometimes. Not because it’s new anymore—but because there was a moment when I thought I’d pushed them too far. Now their easy jabs and playful smiles feel like breathing again.
They glance at the clock, then back at me, bouncing slightly in their shoes. “Ready?”
They say it like I haven’t been waiting forty minutes for them.
Before reaching for my jacket, I step in close enough that Korie’s quiet laugh ghosts against my skin.
“You’re adorable when you’re this excited,” I say.
They don’t even try to deny it. “I know. I just love the vibe. The people and the—”
I gasp. “You love the people?” I touch their forehead playfully. “Are you feeling okay?”
Korie ignores me, still gesturing vaguely. “—the feeling of it. Like everyone just shows up and… I don’t know. Feels things on purpose.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
