It didn’t feel planned. Nothing about last night did.

I had my head on Drew’s chest, his fingers casually running along my arm while something low played in the background—neither of us really paying attention to the movie. His skin was warm, heartbeat slow, and the kind of calm that usually made me feel like I had to fill the silence… didn’t.

And then something shifted. A look in his eyes when I tilted my head up. That pause before his lips met mine. Like the air between us had been waiting for that exact moment to finally break.

The kiss was slow at first. Almost hesitant. But it didn’t stay that way. Within minutes, we were tangled—hands, mouths, breath. Every step toward the bedroom was messy and rushed, but still grounded. He touched me like he already knew what I liked. Like he wanted to learn what I needed.

And then… we had sex.

Not just heat and bodies moving. But that kind where your heart tries to keep up with everything happening at once. It was intense, yes. But there was softness in it too. In the way he kept looking at me, checking in without saying much. In the way he listened—not just with his ears, but with how he moved. It made me feel… chosen. Not just wanted.

After, I laid there catching my breath, staring at the ceiling, letting everything sink in.

That’s usually the part where the warmth fades. Where you start to feel a little too exposed. I almost waited for it—him to roll over, reach for his phone, disappear into his own head like every other guy before.

Instead, he slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. I felt that familiar flicker of disappointment, like I knew the script already.

But then… he came back.

Washcloth in one hand. A look on his face that wasn’t rushed or distracted—just focused. On me.

“Hey,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Let me.”

He cleaned me up like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like he wasn’t trying to earn anything. Like it mattered to him that I felt okay.

And I just… froze.

No one had ever done that before. Not even close.

He noticed. His thumb grazed my thigh, and he looked up, softer now. “You good?”

I nodded, but I think he saw it anyway—that flicker of surprise in my eyes. That maybe-he’s-different kind of ache in my chest.

“You look really beautiful right now,” he whispered. “I just… wanted you to know that.”

Then he grinned, a little playful but still sincere. “Also, you should probably go pee. Just saying.”

I laughed through the lump in my throat. It was such a small thing. But it felt… huge. Like this space, this moment, was ours. Safe.

Later, curled against him under the sheets, his breath steady against my neck, I felt something settle in me. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Wanted. Cared for. Held—after everything.

And maybe that’s what made last night unforgettable.

Not just what happened.

But how he stayed soft, even after.