Anticipation.

My week of butterflies started the very night that we had spent getting to know each other. After we had said our goodbyes that night, I wandered up the stairs and couldn't help but feel anything but happy. Gleefully happy. By the following morning though, my insecurities had got the better of me and all I could think about was whether anything would develop out of our meeting. We kept up our regular emails and chats, added in a few text messages and eventually the topic came back to seeing each other again.

I don't remember whether it was him or I that suggested we go out again the coming Saturday, but I suppose when it's been five years you're allowed to forget a few minor details, right? I agonised over what to wear, we went and saw a movie (Lilo & Stitch, guess whose choice that was) and afterwards drove to a local club to grab a drink and chat some more.

We talked for ages. If my memory serves me well, we swapped wallets to peer through each other's things and ask each other questions. Random, eh? We drove back to my house, parked ourselves on the couch and watched made fun of the late night music videos that were playing on the television, talking and laughing for hours. One of us happened to look at the time, and we realised it was pretty late early, so he decided to call it a night and start his drive back home.

I walked him outside and we had another round of goodbyes. There was a brief moment where we awkwardly wondered what to do next, and we ended up leaning in for a hug. But after a few seconds the hug had ended, and we were still so close to one another . . . One thing let to another and we ended up sharing our first kiss while standing on my driveway, under the stars.

If I had happily wandered up the stairs after our first meeting, I floated up them on this night. I sent him a text message later, saying "What a perfect ending to a perfect night". And it was, you know. It was absolutely perfect.

To be continued . . .