He was still the same. The conversation still flowed. The spark was still there. She was still smiling the next morning and all they had done was talk and kiss. She had wanted more and he knew it, but he had been restrained. And restraint could be good. She was going to have to remember temperance and moderation. This could be addictive. She had to stay balanced and not let the high she got from him consume her. And it could. Easily. She had seen that happening before and she had gotten out. She had walked away never imaging there was a possibility she could go back. And now here they were and she was thrilled. She was going to have to watch that. He still had the money clip she had given him for his 29th birthday and she had shown him she still had the poem he had given her. Ah, nostalgia.
She heard the knock and smiled. She took a quick sip of wine and made herself walk to the door. She could already see him on the other side, leaning against the doorframe with the little smile on his face. Her heart raced. For a second her mind flashed back to when she had opened the door the evening he had brought the groceries and cooked for her. Somewhere she still had the visor he’d been wearing. Now her own smile widened as she opened the door. There he was. There was that smile. He looked down at her and spoke softly. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. As she turned around to walk him in her smile widened even more and she felt that flutter again. She reminded herself to enjoy this and not get too wrapped up. You developed a tolerance to drugs like this and would need more and more to sustain the high. She would have to keep herself in check. If he knew what he did to her, it might scare him. God knew it terrified her. But then that was part of the rush, now wasn’t it?