if we had met in december

To get away from the pouring rain, with leaking coats and squishy shoes, you two bolted inside laughing after tripping over the stairs.

You tiptoed at the door, rubbing your hands together for some heat as he rushed to turn the lights on. To keep you from freezing, he fetched you a towel, straight from the dryer.

“Towel?” As he extended his arm to you.

“Please.”

Your shuddery tremble could shake the water beads off the leaves. Still dripping over the kitchen floor, he offered to remove your sweater before offering to hug you warm. The fluffy towel smelled like ambers and lilies of the valley in a room already dispersing what seemed like cinnamon and vanilla. All the scents sounded too heavy, but they made you feel right at home.

You enjoyed the quiet hug for a while, that was until he breathed against your neck and buried his face in your hair. The tulip was opening and the urges slept on his lips — those beautiful, red lips. The sensations were explosive, melting into each other. You two had agreed to keep the urges to a minimum, but when your hearts found bliss, colliding souls with just one kiss as it poured outside, it was a promise you had to forget.