But I can’t. Not yet.
I want to enjoy her company a little longer. Get to knowher—beyond the sparks, beyond the heat—before I risk stepping into something we can’t undo.
A woman like this comes around once in a lifetime. And if you’re lucky—damn lucky—maybe you meet someone just as rare a second time.
And with that knowledge pressing at the back of my skull, I have to suppress every single thought running through my mind.
Like how easy it would be to buy out this entire little ice cream shop, kick everyone out, lay her out across the countertop and explore all the toppings that would taste even better on her skin.
The problem is...I don’t know how to say any of that without sounding like the ancient, dangerously cautious man I’m starting to feel like.
So I take the safest route, letting my lips curve into a slow, controlled smile. “I’m sure the dress version would drive a sane man crazy. No doubt about that at all.”
Eventually, the ice cream’s long gone, and we find ourselves wandering, walking again, words flowing easy between us. For hours.
We talk about life. About loss. About the things that scare us and the things that set us on fire. But somehow, we never share anything personal that could actually identify us. No last names.No real specifics. Just two people floating in this perfect little bubble we’ve created.
It’s romantic. Intoxicating, even.
But it’s also torture—knowing that when the sun comes up, we might go back to being strangers.
How could anyone meet this woman and not instantly want her close? Not just for a night. Not just for a moment.
Forever.
She pulls out her phone and glances at the screen. “It’s nearly 4:30 AM,” she says, eyes wide but still sparkling with that same playful grin.
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. I can’t believe we’ve been doing this all night. I haven’t done anything like this in…” I pause, actually thinking about it. “Honestly? I don’t think ever.”
“Whaaa?” she gasps, feigning shock. “You’ve never picked up some random Black lady in a club, walked around the city all night, and talked ‘til the sun came up?” She shakes her head like she’s genuinely disappointed.
I meet her gaze, steady. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
She narrows her eyes, smirking. “You’ve gotta get out more, Mister.”
I lean in slightly, my voice a dangerously low tamber. “Sunshine, I’ve been to more countries than I can count. I’ve sat at tables with some of the world’s most impressive people. And I can assure you—” I pause, letting the words settle between us, “youare oneof a kind.”
She’s fierce, sharp, quick, always ready with a comeback. But closeness? Eye contact? That throws her just a little. Knocks her off balance in the smallest, sweetest way.
And I decide, right then and there—I like having this effect on her.
“Wanna get some breakfast?” she asks, her voice light and playful, but I can hear the tiny edge behind it—she’s trying to steady herself, trying to reclaim a little control after I’ve clearly rattled her.
“My treat,” she adds, wiggling her eyebrows, throwing in just enough sass to pretend she’s still the one in charge.
“Fine,” I smirk, letting her have her little reprieve.
But I’m not done with you, Eslin.
“But just so we’re clear,” I continue. “I’m ordering the biggest stack of pancakes they’ve got, and you better not pull one of those‘oops, I forgot my wallet’stunts when the bill comes.”
She gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “Sir, I am a woman of my word!”
“For your sake, I hope so. I take my pancakes very seriously.”
She laughs. “And you’re absolutely sharing.”
“I will bite your finger if you come near my pancakes, woman.”
