The world didn't stop turning. Emails still piled up. Coffee still burned a little too hot.
The office still buzzed with everyday life, deadlines, and the distant hum of printers.
But for Joe and me, something had shifted.
A glance held longer than it should. A touch on the shoulder that lingered. The quiet, secret knowledge that something had passed between us no longer imagined, no longer restrained.
We hadn't kissed again since that day by the office. But the memory of it pulsed between us like music only we could hear.
Friday came with a soft dusk and an invitation.
There was a charity gala. Formal. Fancy. Full of people pretending they didn't want to be there.
Joe had wrangled two tickets, courtesy of a client he half-disliked, and he offered me the second with a grin and a wink.
"I'll behave," he promised. "At least until dessert."
I had rolled my eyes but said yes.
And now, as I stood in front of the mirror in my apartment, smoothing down the fabric of a deep emerald dress, my hands trembled slightly.
Why was I nervous?
I wasn't new to dressing up. I wasn't new to men. But Joe was different. He wasn't a passing chapter; he felt like a beginning.
When I arrived at the hotel ballroom, the lights glittered in a low golden glow, and the string quartet played softly in the corner.
Waiters moved like shadows, balancing glasses of champagne. But Joe was the only thing I saw.
The party was already alive when I walked in, soft jazz blending with the low buzz of conversations, wine glasses clinking, laughter weaving through warm lighting, and the gentle hum of a summer evening.
I hadn't expected to feel nervous. "Not like this.
He was here. Somewhere.
And now that we'd kissed, everything felt different. Sharper. Louder. Intimate, even in public.
I wore a soft blue dress that moved like a whisper when I walked. Not on purpose, but something about tonight made me want to feel beautiful.
He excused himself smoothly, weaving through the crowd until he reached me. No dramatic gestures. Just his presence is calm, steady, effortlessly warm.
"Hey, Ella." His voice was low, quiet enough to be just between us.
"Hey," I replied, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
We stood there for a beat, just looking at each other. That tension, the sweet kind that simmers below the surface, curved between us like an invisible thread.
"You look…" Joe paused, his eyes drifting slowly down then back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Beautiful doesn't quite cover it."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You always say things like that."
"Only when I mean them."
Someone brushed past us with a tray of drinks, breaking the moment.
I took one, grateful for the small distraction, sipping "just to keep my hands from fidgeting.
"So," I said, "this is your crowd?"
"Somewhat," Joe replied, gesturing around. "Work friends, a few old ones, a couple I barely remember how I know. But I'm glad you came."
"I almost didn't," I admitted. "I wasn't sure how it would feel… after."
His smile faltered for half a second, just a flicker, but he nodded. "Yeah. I get that."
We ended up standing near the window, away from most of the chatter.
A few people passed by and waved; Joe introduced me where it made sense, but never let the moment between us stretch too far apart.
There was an unspoken awareness in how he kept near me, in the way his arm brushed mine when we leaned close to talk.
When we laughed together, it felt too easy. "As if the kiss had broken through whatever wall had stood between us.
I felt it in my bones that pull. "The way I noticed it, every time he glanced down at my lips when I spoke.
The way my skin buzzed when he rested a hand at the small of my back, gently guiding me toward a quieter spot.
"You okay?" he asked once they stepped outside to the balcony. The air was cooler there. Softer. Just us and the sound of distant traffic.
I nodded. "Yeah. I just… needed a breath."
"I can give you space, if that's what you need."
I looked up at him, my eyes searching. "No. That's not what I need."
That answer hung there between us, heavier than the music drifting from inside.
"I'm not going to rush you, Ella," Joe said. "I know things are changing. "I just want you to know I'm here. However, you need me."
I felt something catch in my throat. It was so him to say that. No pressure. No games. Just honesty.
"I know," I whispered. "And that's the part that scares me."
He leaned a little closer, his voice barely above a murmur. "Being scared is okay. Just don't shut me out."
My hand found his almost without thinking, and our fingers intertwined. It felt natural.
Right. And terrifying.
We didn't kiss again that night, not in front of people. But something did happen. Something unspoken yet solid.
A tether was tied. A promise felt, not said.
And after a few minutes outside, we joined everybody inside.
Sometimes, love doesn't rush in with fireworks.
Sometimes, it walks beside you in silence, waiting patiently to be chosen.
He looked... striking. His eyes met mine, and in that moment, everything else disappeared.
I tilted my head. "Careful. Say the wrong thing, and I'm drinking all your champagne."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, not because he wasn't happy, but because something deeper flickered beneath the surface.
"I was going to say you look like something I could fall in love with."
I blinked, caught off guard. He didn't laugh. Didn't pull the line back.
Instead, he offered me his hand.
"Dance with me?"
I hesitated only before taking it.
The music swelled gently as we moved onto the floor. Joe placed a hand on my waist, the other clasping mine, and we began to move slowly, intentionally, not perfectly but entirely ours.
The world around us blurred, fading into soft color and motion.
The world around us blurred, fading into soft color and motion.
I hadn't danced like this in years. I didn't think I could anymore, not like this, not with my heart so open.
But with Joe, it was easy.
He whispered in my ear, "You're holding back."
"I'm not a dancer."
"You're afraid," he said.
I looked up at him. "So are you."
"True," he admitted, pulling me closer. "But I'm dancing anyway."
Our bodies aligned as if we had done this a thousand times before. With each turn, each sway, the space between us melted, and our rhythm became one heartbeat shared.
The music slowed. His cheek brushed mine. And then, in the hush between notes, he whispered:
"Tell me to stop, and I will."
I didn't.
I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against his.
He pressed a kiss there, soft and lingering.
No hunger. No games. Just tenderness.
Something inside me cracked open.
"I don't want you to stop," I breathed.
We didn't speak after that. We just danced.
Later, when the crowd thinned and the lights dimmed, Joe and I made our way home. He didn't try to kiss me again.
He just held my hand the entire way, our fingers laced like a silent vow.
And when we reached my door, I turned to him and said something I never thought I would.
"I feel safe with you."
Joe stared at me like I'd just handed him the moon.
"You always will," he said.
And in that quiet, tender moment, love didn't need fireworks.
It only "needed" two hearts brave enough to waltz together.
The night had quieted. The kind of stillness that settles over the city when most of its people have gone to sleep, and the air carries only whispers.
I sat curled in my robe by the window, the moonlight painting soft silver stripes across my bare legs.
My phone, resting beside my cup of tea, blinked with a new message.
Joe:I know it's late. But I just needed to hear your voice.
I hesitated only for a breath before calling him back. When he answered, the roughness in his voice told me he was lying on his bed, probably in the same quiet state I was.
"Hey," I whispered.
"Hey," he echoed, soft and slow. "Can't sleep either?"
"Not really," I admitted. "Tonight felt… loaded."
"Loaded how?" His voice was a little hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in a while.
"Emotion. Wanting. Restraint."
Joe let out a low breath. "I felt that too. You know I wanted to kiss you again.
Every time you looked at me like that, I swear I forgot how to breathe."
I hugged my knees a little tighter. "You weren't the only one forgetting."
There was a silence between us, not awkward, just dense with everything unsaid.
There was a silence between them, not awkward, just dense with everything unsaid.
"I kept imagining what it would be like," Joe said, voice dipping lower, "if we weren't surrounded by people.
If I could pull you aside, press you against the wall, and kiss you slowly until we both forgot where we were."
I closed my eyes, my heart thudding against my ribs.
"Joe…"
"I wouldn't have stopped there, El," he said. "Not if you looked at me the way you did by the balcony.
I would've wanted to hear you "Say my name again"..But breathless.
With your hands in my shirt. Your fingers in my hair."
My lips parted. The night felt suddenly warmer.
I could hear him shifting on the other end of the line, imagine him lying back, arm behind his head, eyes closed, picturing the same thing I was.
"I'm not trying to push," he added, more gently now. "I just… I keep thinking about you."
"I keep thinking about you, too," I said, my voice small but honest. "About how your hand felt on my back tonight.
How close you stood. How your voice sank when you said my name."
Joe chuckled softly. "You noticed that?"
The party had ended hours ago.
"You looked beautiful tonight," he said, without preamble. "That dress… That smile…"
I laughed under my breath, sinking back against my pillows. "You're still doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Making me feel like I'm the only girl in the world."
There was a pause, a meaningful one. "That's because you are. To me."
My breath caught. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to steady the emotion in my chest.
"I keep replaying tonight," I admitted. "Not just the party. The looks. The way you stayed close, but not too close."
"I noticed you noticed," he said gently.
"I don't know what this is yet, Joe."
"I'm not asking you to name it. I "just" want to be in it with you, That's all."
A moment of silence stretched between us, comfortable, not awkward, like two souls resting in the same space.
A long, quiet pause.
Then his voice dipped even lower. "What are you wearing right now?"
I blinked, cheeks flushing instantly. "Excuse me?"
He chuckled. "Not trying to get wild… just… imagining you. Talking to me, the way you sound right now."
I bit my lip, warmth flooding my body. "A robe. Midnight blue. Bare feet."
He let out a sound like a growl and a sigh mixed. "You're killing me."
"I thought you weren't trying to get wild," I teased, voice feather-light.
"I lied. A little."
We both "laughed quietly", letting the moment melt into something gentle again. Not lustful. Just close. Personal.
"Can I ask you something?" He murmured.
"Anything."
"Are you scared too?"
Joe was quiet for a moment. "Terrified," he said finally. "Because this feels like something I could fall hard into. And I already am."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Me too."
"I wish I am holding you right now," he added. "Nothing more. Just… holding you. Your head on my chest, your breath warming my skin."
My eyes stung a little. No one had ever said it like that before, wanting my presence more than my body.
"You'll be here. Soon," I whispered.
"I will," he promised.
And just like that, the walls I'd been carefully rebuilding around my heart trembled.
We stayed on the phone a while longer, barely speaking.
"Just, breathing. Listening,Sometimes love grows not in the fireworks, but in the late-night silence, when two hearts learn the rhythm of each other's quiet.
"I notice a lot when it comes to you. I always have. I "just, wasn't letting myself feel it."
"And now?"
"I'm scared of falling too fast," I admitted. "But I'm already halfway there."
There was silence again, then a whisper:
"Fall," he said. "I'll catch you."
I swallowed, biting back a tear I couldn't explain. He always knew the exact thing to say, not to charm, but to anchor her.
"Wish you were here," I said.
"I'd hold you," he murmured. "No rush. No pressure. Just warmth. Just skin and heartbeat and quiet."
I sighed, a slow, weighted breath. "That sounds perfect."
"Promise me something?"
"What?"
"When we see each other next… don't hold back. Let me kiss you like I mean it. Like I've been waiting every damn day."
I closed my eyes, feeling my body pulse in agreement. "I promise."
We stayed on the line, not saying much more, just sharing breath, space, silence. And somewhere in the middle of it,
I drifted to sleep with the phone still cradled to my cheek, Joe's voice the last thing I remembered.
Not fire.
Not fireworks.
Just warmth.
And the start of something real.
"You always will," he said.
And in that quiet, tender moment, love didn't need fireworks.
It only needed" two hearts brave enough to waltz together.