It was a perfect evening.

When you both went outside from a small restaurant, cool air hit you in the face, and a slight wind slightly ruffled your hair. The sun was just about to set, and on the horizon the clouds turned into a mixture of red and yellow.

Simon stood slightly away from you, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. When he saw how you dodged the smoke that the wind blew in your direction, he took a step to the side so that it wouldn't bother you anymore. A gentleman. Oh, God, he was such a gentleman.

When you matched on a dating app with a man who is thirty-seven, you didn't expect that there would be at least a text. But it happened. And casual, honest, and slightly flirtatious communication led to Simon asking you out on a date. On a real date. And you couldn't say no.

He was polite all evening. Listened to your life stories, interjected his jokes, and also prevented you from trying to split the bill in a deep voice. "Don't ya dare."

There was an age difference between you. God, if your parents had found out how old he was, your father would have opened his mouth in shock, and your mother would have stormed out of the living room screaming. But all you wanted to think about at the moment was his lips wrapped around a cigarette.

You wanted to kiss him. To feel if his small stubble is pricking.

And Simon, of course, noticed your gaze. In fact, he was looking at you the whole time that you were staring at his lips. Your desires were obvious. So were his.

Stubbing out his cigarette on a nearby trash can, he blew out the last stream of smoke from his mouth, and then took a small step forward. His hand slid up, gently stroking your forearm through the fabric of your coat.

"Ya want to?.."

He didn't finish the question, didn't need to. Because you nodded quickly, without stopping to look at his lips. The lips you wanted to kiss.

The first kiss on the first date. That's okay, right? Because you wanted it badly.