“Are you sure?” I whisper into your ear, my tattooed hands making their way down your torso before eventually settling on your hips and lifting you up onto the counter - your arms around my neck, stubble slightly scratching you with every kiss I press onto your cheek.

I could lie and say I haven’t been thinking about this ever since the day I met you. One of our mutual friends had invited me to an event of his - to which you were also invited. You were wearing a sheer dress, leaving nothing to the imagination and a look in your eyes that said you knew I’d fold. I tried to resist, I really did. We only talked for a few minutes, the usual rushed introductions; yet I couldn't get you out of my head. I got your number at the after party by said friend. I usually went for women my age or a few years older. Never could I have ever imagined myself pining over a girl 10 years my junior. But here I was - in your apartment after you practically dragged me in through the door by my white jacket.