S A R A H

As Noah pulls up in front of my apartment, the city lights glimmer softly outside the car window. He parks and turns to me, his expression warm but tinged with hesitation. "Thanks for tonight," I whisper, feeling the weight of everything we shared still lingering in the air.

As Noah hugs me one last time, his arms linger around me as though he doesn't want to let go. I pull back slightly, looking up at him, and he flashes me a soft smile that sends my heart racing.

"I'll send the dresses tomorrow," he says gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"You don't have to," I murmur, though part of me already looks forward to seeing them again.

"I want to," he replies firmly. "They belong with you."

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything more. I turn and walk toward the building, but my legs feel heavy, like each step is an effort to pull myself away from him.

At the door, I glance back, and he's still there, leaning against his car, watching me with that quiet intensity. I wave, and he smiles, his hand lifting in response before he finally gets into his car and drives away.

I enter the lift and head upstairs, still caught in the warmth of the moment, when I walk into the apartment to see Nayla lounging on the couch with a can of Coke. Her eyes light up as soon as she sees me, and she sits up straight, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Finally! How was it? Tell me everything!" she demands, patting the seat next to her.

"Nayla, it's late," I protest, though my face is already heating up.

"Don't care," she chirps, grabbing my arm and pulling me down beside her. "Come on, Sarah! I'm dying here!"

I sigh, popping open the soda she hands me, and before I know it, the whole story spills out, the car, the dinner, the surprise with the dresses. She gasps and squeals at all the right moments, her enthusiasm pulling laughter from me despite myself.

"He's a keeper," she declares, grinning like she's just solved all my problems. Then, her smile falters as she studies me more closely.

"You don't look completely happy, though. What's wrong?"

I hesitate, fiddling with the can in my hands. "I... I don't know, Nayla. It's all happening so fast. Noah's... intense. He makes me feel like I'm the only person in his world, but that's also what scares me. What if I can't handle it? What if I lose myself in him?"

Nayla's smile softens as she rests a hand on my shoulder. "Sarah, listen to me. You're not going to lose yourself. You're stronger than you think. And if he's really into you-which, let's be honest, he totally is, then he'll respect your pace. But..." Her grin turns mischievous again. "If he messes up, you let me know. I'll take care of him."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Thanks, Nayla."

"Anytime," she says with a wink. "Now, get to bed. You need your beauty sleep, and I need my roommate functioning tomorrow."

I smile as I retreat to my room, but the second I'm alone, the weight of everything presses down on me. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning.

I replay every moment from tonight, the way Noah looked at me, his touch, his kisses. I feel my face heat up as I remember his hand brushing against mine and the way he pulled me close.

But alongside the thrill, fear creeps in. Where is this going? Can I handle his world? His passion?

What if I'm making a mistake, letting myself fall for someone so overwhelming?

Still one thought lingers above all others how much I long to see him again, no matter how scared I might be.

I sit on my bed, hugging my knees, staring at the faint glow of my phone. The events of the evening still swirl in my mind, leaving my chest heavy with a mix of excitement and fear.

A sudden vibration pulls me from my thoughts, and Noah's name flashes across the screen. My heart skips, and I hesitate for a second before answering.

"Hi," I whisper, my voice soft in the quiet of my room.

"Hi," he replies, his voice just as low, as if matching the intimacy of the moment. "Did I wake you?"

"No," I say quickly. "I was... just thinking."

"About me?" His tone carries a playful lilt, but there's an edge of seriousness beneath it.

I bite my lip, feeling warmth creep up my face. "Maybe."

He chuckles softly, and the sound wraps around me like a blanket. "Good. Because I've been thinking about you, too. I couldn't sleep."

I settle deeper into my bed, propping the phone against my ear. "So you decided to call and disturb my peace?"

"Exactly," he says with a grin in his voice. "And since I have your attention, tell me... what's your favourite colour?"

I blink, caught off guard by the question. "My favorite colour? That's random."

"Excuse me," he says.

"Okay...yellow. Like the sky right before sunset," I answer, smiling faintly. "What about you?"

"Blue," he says without hesitation. "It's simple, sleek... and honestly, it reminds me of you."

"Me?" I laugh softly.

"Yeah. You're always in control, quiet, but there's so much more to you underneath," he explains.

His words leave me momentarily speechless, a strange warmth spreading through me. "That's... sweet, I think."

We fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking about everything. I learn his favorite food is noodles, while I insist that nothing beats a perfectly cooked bowl of pasta. His favorite drink is whiskey, but he promises to try the hot latte I rave about.

"What about your favorite place?" I ask after a while, curling into my pillows.

"Anywhere I can be myself," he says simply. "And right now, I guess that's... wherever you are."

My heart stutters, and I grip the phone tighter. "You're such a smooth talker."

"No, I'm just being honest," he says, his voice softer now. "What about you?"

I hesitate before answering. "The beach. I like the sound of the waves. It makes me feel small in a good way, like nothing else matters."

"Then we're going to the beach soon," he says firmly, and I laugh at his determination.

The conversation drifts to movies, music, and even family. He tells me about his childhood memories with his cousin Jeremy, and I find myself smiling at the warmth in his voice. I tell him about my brother, and the way his love for music always filled our home.

As the minutes stretch into hours, the world outside seems to disappear. It's just us, sharing pieces of ourselves, bit by bit.

At some point, Noah's voice grows softer, his words slower.

"Sarah..." he murmurs, his tone heavy with sleep.

"Yes?" I whisper back, unsure if he's still awake.

"I'm glad I called," he says, his voice barely audible.

"Me too," I admit, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over me.

The call goes quiet, but I don't hang up. Instead, I place the phone on my pillow, listening to his soft breathing until my own eyelids grow heavy.

I fall asleep too without worry, the sound of Noah's presence lulling me into dreams.