First meetings are hard… but also the most fun.
Do you have a favorite “first-meeting” fantasy moment—one you’ve written or read—that still lives rent-free in your brain?
Here’s mine, straight from How to Survive a Hot Italian Summer (NA / Sports Romance).
I'd barely climbed a couple of steps when I heard footsteps from above. I sensed the atmosphere shift before raising my gaze.
He was coming down the stairs barefoot, carrying a confidence you can't learn, only wear. His hair fell in saltwater waves, light and effortless, just touching his shoulders.
Our eyes met for a moment; his were blue. Not frosty blue, but alive, like waves rolling toward shore.
He was only wearing swim trunks. Bare-chested. Tanned skin. He looked like some mix of a Viking and an Italian god.
I forgot to keep walking. My legs stopped mid-step. Then came the heat—not the good kind, but the embarrassing, sticky kind that creeps up from your chest and settles in your cheeks. I was definitely staring too long, but I couldn't stop myself.
I tried to pretend I was looking at the railing. Or a mark on the wall. Anything but him.
"Jacob, say hi to Lisa," Lorenzo said behind me.
My throat tightened. "H-hey," I stammered. I could barely hold his gaze.
"Hey," he said, with a teasing smile, like he'd seen right through me—like he knew exactly what effect he had. Or maybe he was just making fun. I couldn't tell.