The night air was crisp as we stepped out of the party, the lingering hum of music fading behind us. She was still holding my hand, her fingers laced with mine like she had no intention of letting go.
   “You sure you don’t wanna crash at mine?” she asked, voice thick with the remnants of wine and laughter.
   I shook my head, unlocking the door to my apartment. “No way. You’re drunk. And you..” I gave her a pointed look as I pushed the door open. “..are staying here so I can make sure you don’t do something reckless. Like confessing your love to someone else.”
   She snorted, stepping inside as I closed the door behind us. “You think I go around confessing to just anyone?” She spun on her heel, pressing her back against the door as she looked at me, her gaze soft but unwavering. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
   My breath caught. The apartment was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city filtering through the windows. Everything felt surreal like a dream I was afraid to wake up from.
   She took a step closer, then another, until she was standing right in front of me, tilting her head up to meet my gaze. “Say something,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against mine.
   I didn’t trust my voice. Instead, I reached for her, cupping her face as I kissed her.
   She gasped against my lips before melting into me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back with the kind of urgency that made my head spin. Her body pressed flush against mine, and all I could think about was how perfectly she fit against me like this was where she was always meant to be.
   Somewhere in the haze, I kicked off my shoes, leading her further into the apartment without breaking the kiss. We barely made it to the couch before she pulled me down with her, her legs tangling with mine as she tugged me closer.
   My hands traced the curve of her waist, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips. She sighed into my mouth, her breath hitching as my fingers brushed higher, teasing, exploring.
   She pulled away just enough to look at me, her lips kiss swollen, her pupils blown wide with something that made my stomach flip. “Is this okay?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
   I nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah,” I murmured. “More than okay.”
   She smiled soft, almost shy before kissing me again, slower this time, like she was savoring every second. We shifted, stumbling our way toward my bedroom, barely making it to the bed before she pushed me down, straddling my waist with a confidence that sent heat pooling low in my stomach.
   The city lights cast faint shadows across her skin as she leaned over me, her fingers tracing slow patterns along my collarbone, down my arms, like she was memorizing me.
   “I can’t believe this is real,” she whispered, her breath warm against my lips.
   I wrapped my arms around her, flipping us so she was beneath me, my weight settling between her thighs. “It’s real,” I promised, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower, drawing a shaky breath from her lips. “And it’s just the beginning.”
   The rest of the night blurred into whispers, laughter, stolen breaths. Fingers trailing over warm skin, hands exploring, mouths meeting over and over like we were afraid to stop.
   By the time we finally collapsed against each other, tangled in sheets and each other, I could feel her smile against my shoulder.
   “I love you,” she murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and something deeper, something heavier.
   I kissed the top of her head, tightening my hold around her. “I love you too.”
   She sighed, curling into me, and in the quiet of the night, I realized this wasn’t just some fleeting moment.
   This was us. Finally, truly, us.