It started with little things—passing glances, shared smiles across the driveway, quick conversations that seemed to linger just a moment too long. Lou, my neighbor, always had an easy way about her, and we’d often cross paths. It was nothing at first, just the usual chats about the weather, the neighborhood, the small talk that never really meant much.
But there was something more between us, something unspoken. Every time we talked, I felt this subtle pull, like we were drawn closer with each exchange. It wasn’t about what we said, but how we said it—the lingering eye contact, the way her laugh would soften when our eyes met.
One evening, as the sky was painted with soft hues of pink and orange, Lou stepped outside. I was sitting on my porch, enjoying the last light of the day when she caught my eye. She didn’t wave this time, just smiled and wandered over. “You’ve got the best spot for sunsets,” she said, her voice low and warm.
I offered her a seat beside me, and she accepted without hesitation. As we sat there, side by side, the air seemed to grow heavier, charged with an energy neither of us could deny. The conversation was softer now, her voice a quiet hum that seemed to resonate just beneath my skin.
At some point, our hands brushed—accidental, but electric. Neither of us pulled away. My hand lingered just a moment longer than it should have, and when I finally did let go, I noticed the slight shift in her breathing, the way her gaze had softened, locked on mine.
“You ever just want to escape for a little while?” she asked, her tone quiet, almost as if she wasn’t expecting an answer.
I didn’t respond with words; instead, I reached out again, this time more deliberate. My fingertips traced the edge of her hand, slowly, savoring the warmth of her skin. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but I felt the connection between us tighten, like we were standing on the edge of something new, something neither of us had expected but couldn’t deny. |
