I always thought I had a good reason for being single at 25. The guys I liked never seemed to like me back, and the ones who did? Well, let’s just say the feeling wasn’t mutual. I figured maybe love wasn’t in the cards for me, at least not yet.

But that social evening, boredom crept in like an uninvited guest. I was lounging on my couch, scrolling through endless media feeds, when Victor’s name popped up on my phone. He’d been on my case for months, constantly texting, always trying to get my attention. I usually ignored him or gave one-word replies. But that night? I thought, “Why not?”

“Hey,” I texted back. “Wanna grab dinner?”

His response was almost immediate. “Sure! When and where?”

We settled on a cosy little restaurant downtown. I didn’t put too much effort into getting ready, just a simple dress, light makeup, and my hair pulled into a loose bun. I wasn’t expecting much. After all, this was just Victor.

But when I entered the restaurant and spotted him at the corner table, my breath caught in my throat. He looked so good. Victor was tall, with broad shoulders that perfectly filled out his crisp white shirt. His skin was rich, smooth, glowing, dark chocolate under the warm lights. His jawline was sharp, with a hint of stubble that made him look effortlessly rugged. But it was his eyes, deep, intense, and kind, that threw me off.

“Sandra,” he called out, standing to pull out a chair for me.

“Victor,” I replied, trying to mask my surprise.

As we sat down and started talking, I found myself leaning in, hanging onto his every word. He spoke with a confidence that wasn’t arrogant but charming. His voice was deep and smooth, and his laughter… oh, his laughter was infectious. I couldn’t believe I had ignored him for so long.

Halfway through our meal, I realised I was struggling to concentrate. My mind kept drifting to how his lips curved when he smiled and how his hands looked strong yet gentle.

After dessert, he leaned back in his chair, giving me a playful look. “So,” he said, “do you want to come over? I’ve got this old photo album I’d love to show you.”

I stared into his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yes,” I whispered slowly, my voice laced with something I couldn’t quite place, anticipation, maybe?

We drove to his place, a quiet apartment not too far from the restaurant. Inside, it was cosy and smelled faintly of cedarwood and something uniquely… him. He pulled out a photo album, and we sat on his couch, flipping through the pages. Our hands kept brushing against each other’s, sending little sparks of electricity up my arm. The tension between us was undeniable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

At one point, I looked up to find him staring at me. His gaze dropped to my lips, and he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm, and as they moved against mine, I felt something stir deep inside me. I kissed him back, pulling him closer.

But then he pulled away, his breath ragged. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s too soon…”

I cupped his face, looking into his eyes. “I decide what’s right and wrong,” I whispered, my voice steady and sure. Then, teasingly, I added, “Why don’t you lead me to your bedroom?”

His eyes darkened with desire. Without another word, he scooped me up, carrying me down the hallway. Our lips never broke contact; each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last.

In his bedroom, the world outside ceased to exist. Clothes were discarded carelessly, leaving a trail from the door to the bed. His touch was both gentle and commanding, sending shivers down my spine. Every kiss, every caress, felt like fire against my skin. He knew exactly where to touch and how to move, making my body sing in ways I never thought possible.

We moved together in perfect harmony, our breaths mingling, hearts racing. The intensity built until it crashed over us like a tidal wave, leaving us tangled in the sheets, gasping and clinging to each other.

As we lay there afterwards, his arms wrapped around me, I felt an unexpected sense of peace. It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put into words. I glanced at him, and he smiled, squeezing my hand.

At that moment, I realised something profound. Sometimes, the very thing we’re looking for comes from the most unexpected places. Maybe I had been so focused on what I thought I wanted that I overlooked what I truly needed.

Victor wasn’t just another guy vying for my attention. He was the one I hadn’t seen coming, and maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what I’d been waiting for all along. He was right under my nose.

Dorcas Akintoye
+ posts

Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.