I open my eyes, but his hand is still covering them. Straining to see through the cracks in his fingers, I can see only darkness. Excitement is building in me, and I feel giddy; he has never surprised me like this before.
When he picked me up earlier that evening, he had me wrap a silk scarf around my eyes and blindfold myself. The car ride was short, and once we had arrived, he made me stand inside and patiently wait whilst he made preparations.
Minutes feel like hours, and when he returned, he removed the blindfold and replaced it with his hand, being careful not to touch me.
His hand smells of scented oils, and the lavender and bergamot aroma fills my nostrils. It is a familiar and comforting scent which puts me at ease, and I wonder, what has he been doing?
"Are you ready?" he asks with excitement in his voice.
"Yes," I reply, unable to wait a second longer.
His hand leaves my eyes and I'm met with a foggy hallway, illuminated by weak candles, making it hard to see.
As I glance around, I realise where I am. It's the grand, abandoned Victorian mansion atop the hill – Sablstt House.
Long ago left abandoned, its black iron gates were peeling to reveal their red rust core. The tiled shingle roof, although still somewhat intact, had holes in it, which now served as a home for birds, bats and stone gargoyle figures.
We had often passed the house and wondered what it would be like inside. It was a mysterious place with its smashed windows, the extensive garden overgrown and wild, and its shabby exterior warding people away.
It didn't ward me off. In fact, its peeling paint and dark exterior only drew me closer.
I stand, taken aback. It had never occurred that he would bring me here. A thrill runs through me as I realise I'm finally going to get to explore every room.
The lit pillar candles on the old sideboard draw me closer. I need to see his face clearer. I reach them, and the outside edge of one candle bursts open, spilling its hot waxy liquid down its side and onto the dusty and worn furniture below.
I realise now that I had never seen his face in daylight before. What we did together was always in the dark.
His T-shirt and jeans are soaking, making the white T-shirt almost see-through..
He looks down at his boots, which appear covered in dust and cobwebs.
He finally looks up at me, and he does not blink. Instead, he stares at me, eyes locked with mine, his cheeks flush pink with a bead of sweat beginning to form on his brow.
His once blue eyes were now dark grey, like brewing storm clouds. I wonder to myself, what storm is raging behind those eyes today?
"Thank you for bringing me here. It's always been a dream of mine to explore this place," I say earnestly, breaking the awkward silence beginning to develop between us.
"You're welcome," he replied with a shy smile.
He moves his hand to his jeans pocket, and I see the black silk scarf from earlier dangling. In one fluid motion, he pulls it out and holds the delicate fabric in his hands.
Is he going to blindfold me again? I ask myself, confused, before he asks, "Hold out your right arm, please." I obey, and he wraps the silk around my wrist.
He ties the fabric in a loose knot before sliding his hand on top of mine and intertwining our fingers. He had never touched my bare skin before, let alone held my hand.
I am shocked by the sensation of feeling his warm skin against mine. It sends a familiar tingle through my body which I have only felt once before.
Two months ago, we were driving in the dark. I sat in the passenger seat, and our conversation was easygoing until an incident occurred. He briefly touched my knee while reaching across to change the radio station.
