Confessions of a Twenty-Something City Girl

Kissing You

I awaken to the gentle morning sun streaming through the windows, casting a soft glow over my body nestled in the warmth of the sheets. My gaze shifts from the bright windows to a familiar sound I've heard many times before.

There, before me, sits Noah at the piano. His posture is impeccable, his fingers dancing effortlessly over the ivory keys.

He's playing Des'ree's "Kissing You."

I watch in awe as the melody unfolds, my heart skips a beat. Noah's concentration is intense, his touch on the keys smooth and fluid. The music, though gentle, wraps around me, quickening my pulse. Its vibrations tingle on my skin, electrifying me with each chord.

Noah pauses, catching my teary gaze as the music so moves me. "Good morning, beautiful," he says with a smile.

"Keep playing," I plead.

A soft smile forms on his lips as he nods. Noah resumes playing, seamlessly picking up where he left off. The enchanting melody compels me to rise and quietly move to the other side of the baby grand, where I can fully appreciate Noah's masterpiece.

As he continues, Noah gestures with a nod for me to join him. I settle beside him and indulge in the mystical attraction this music has over me; it's hauntingly beautiful. It's wistful, slightly melancholy yet undeniably romantic.

Noah's fingers glide through the final notes, each chord filled with thought and emotion. As he finishes, I turn to him, our eyes meeting. "Noah," I gasp softly.

"I thought you might enjoy waking up to it," he says, a tender smile gracing his face as he brushes a stray hair behind my ear.

"It was the most beautiful and thoughtful gesture anyone's ever made for me. Thank you," I reply, still caught in the spell of the music.

"I'm glad you liked it. How did you sleep?" He asks, his voice gentle.

"Amazing. Your bed is so comfortable! And so are you," I say, blushing at the memory of his skillful fingers playing me last night.

"It was all you," he replies, softly caressing my cheek.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have an extra toothbrush in this giant place, would ya?" I inquire.

Noah's intensity softens into a smile. "I do. I left one out for you in the bathroom."

"You are a gem, thank you. I will be right back," I say, rising to head to the bathroom.

"Do you like eggs?" Noah asks.

"All day long!" I exclaim playfully.

"Perfect," he chuckles. "Meet me downstairs when you're ready."

I step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. As I glance in the mirror, I smile at the glowing woman looking back at me. My hair, tousled and wavy from air-drying last night, surprisingly cooperates. After a quick face wash and brush, I give myself a once over. I feel so at ease here, especially in Noah's clothes, close to him.

Heading down the stairs, I delightfully take in the beautiful sunlight, its rays perfectly bouncing off the walls - savory scents of breakfast trail through the air. In the kitchen, Noah skillfully arranges scrambled eggs alongside a colorful array of sliced avocados, tomatoes, fresh berries, and toast.

"Yummy!" I joyfully squeal as I settle onto a barstool at the island. "And he cooks! Thank you for breakfast."

"You're very welcome," he replies, serving himself and placing his plate next to mine. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please! Black is perfect," I respond, savoring a bite of fluffy eggs and creamy avocado.

"You've got it," he says, pouring steaming coffee into a sleek black mug, handing it to me.