FALLING FAST

Love has a way of sneaking up on you, slipping into the spaces you thought were carefully guarded.

I had always considered myself too pragmatic to fall into something reckless, too controlled to let emotions dictate my actions.

But Ethan had a way of breaking down my walls without even trying.

One conversation turned into two, then into late night phone calls, stolen moments in the middle of the day, and laughter that came easier than it ever had before.

We spent hours at the café where we met, talking about everything and nothing. He told me about his love for photography, how he believed every picture captured more than just an image it held emotion, a moment frozen in time.

I told him about my dreams, ones I hadn't dared to speak aloud before. He listened in a way that made me feel seen, like my words mattered. It was intoxicating.

One evening, he took me to an underground jazz club, the kind of place I never would have ventured into alone.

The music wrapped around us, sultry and alive, as he pulled me onto the dance floor. "You don't dance, do you?" he teased, his breath warm against my ear.

"I do when sufficiently bribed," I shot back, grinning.

"And what exactly is your price?"

I pretended to think, tapping my chin. "A caramel macchiato. Large. Extra drizzle."

He laughed, spinning me unexpectedly, catching me before I could stumble. "Deal."

It was in moments like that-when we were tangled in laughter, when his hands found the curve of my waist, steadying me that I felt the weight of something deeper creeping in. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Then came the night he kissed me for the first time.

We were walking through the city, the neon glow of street signs bouncing off puddles from an earlier rain. I was mid sentence when he stopped abruptly, turning me toward him.

"You talk too much," he murmured

C upping my face,before I could protest, his lips met mine, stealing the words right off my tongue.

It was slow, deliberate, a kiss that sent heat curling through my veins. When he pulled away, he smirked. "That was better than coffee."

I couldn't argue.

My best friend, Olivia, noticed the shift in me almost immediately. "You've got that look," she said one afternoon over brunch, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me.

"What look?" I feigned innocence, stirring my mimosa with my straw.

"The 'I'm falling for him but refusing to admit it' look."

I rolled my eyes, but the truth settled in my chest like a weight. I was falling too fast, too hard. And despite every instinct warning me to slow down, to put up a barrier, I couldn't.

Because with Ethan, I didn't just feel alive. I felt infinite.

And I didn't want it to stop.