Because when I think about her—when I’m near her—everything in me shifts.
She doesn’t just get my attention.
She takes it. Owns it.
She sets my heart on fire in a way I didn’t think was possible anymore.
And my music? The beat that lives inside my head?
Christ.
My music hasn’t sounded like this in years.
She didn’t just wake something up in me. She brought it back to life. And that should scare me.
It should make me pull back. Reassess.
Put distance between us before this turns into something I can’t control.
But I don’t want distance. I want more.
More of her smiles. Her laughter. Her sweet kisses.
More of the way she looks at me when she’s trying not to. The way she feels when she forgets to hold back.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
I might not be the man she imagined for herself.
Not the safe one. Not the predictable one.
I come with noise and lights. With chaos. With a world that doesn’t slow down for anyone.
But I know something with a certainty I don’t question anymore.
I’m the only man for her. The only one who can meet her where she is. And pull her into something bigger without breaking her.
Not because I think I’m better.
Because I know myself.
I know what I give. I know what I take.
And with her? I don’t want to take anything she doesn’t hand to me.
But once she does—I’m not giving it back.
Is that conceit? Maybe.
Or maybe it’s just knowing something for what it is.
Because I was unsure at first.
Told myself it was timing. Chemistry.
A spark I could walk away from.
But I touched her.