Meandering into a bookstore, Matthew is greeted with a smile by the man behind the cash register.
“Let us know if you need anything,” he says, his eyes lingering on Matthew as he starts to walk up and down the aisles.
Pulling out books and flipping to the synopses on the back, a woman catches his eyes thru the peephole in the bookshelf to the next aisle.
Her shoulders broad and her hips wide, she was donning a basic pair of black leggings, yellow flats with cute little bows on top, and a mustard yellow cabled sweater, the overgrown turtleneck dusting the bottom of your chin length, crazy-curly hair.
Giggling at something, you turn with the book in your hand, squealing as you are met with a pair of unsuspecting eyes.
“Oh my gosh!” you exclaim, your hand going over your heart to try and steady the picking up of its tempo.
“I’m so sorry!” he says, rushing over and rounding the corner in to your aisle. “I-I didn’t mean to…uh, to startle you,” he says, stumbling as he tries to find the right words.
“It’s alright, you just gave me a start,” you say, smiling as his kind features take you by surprise.
“I’m Matthew,” he says, holding out his hand.
“Y/N,” you say, cocking a half smile as you take his hand, his soft skin warming you all the way up your arm.
“What are you reading?” he asks, pointing to the book in your hands.
“I believe it’s my next purchase,” you say, looking down as you flip the book closed.
“Ah, Nicholas Sparks,” he muses, smiling at you with his beautiful smile. “A romance fan?”
“Not the smutty kind, no,” you say, shaking your head, “But his romance books are sweet and kind, and it’s nice to curl up by a fire under a blanket and read them as the sun sets.”
“A fan of fall?” Matthew asks.
“My favorite time of year,” you smile, your cheeks burning under his gaze.
“Hey, do you uh…have any plans for this afternoon?” he asks, his gaze casting to the floor.
“No, I don’t have many friends in the area, so…” you say, trailing off.
“Well, are you a coffee fan?” he asks, his spirits lifting.
“I don’t trust anyone who isn’t,” you say, giving him a light wink.
“Would you like to get some coffee with me, then?” he says, lifting his eyes to meet yours.
Stepping out into his backyard, your ears are assaulted by the random beauty of the wind chimes: different keys and different tunes all ringing different notes as they all cascade in to one another, creating a symphony of music all their own.
“This is beautiful,” you say in awe, looking up and around you at all of the wind chimes.
Smiling at you, his gaze never leaving your face, he says, “Yes, yes it is.”
Pulling up a chair and bringing your coffee to your lips, you sip on it as you listen to the wind pick up again, taking the song of the chimes along with it.
Feeling a light flutter on your hand, you look over and see that a lone butterfly has landed on it, fluttering its wings and causing a light air pressure to blow across the invisible hairs of the back of your hand.
“Matthew! Look!” you whisper, getting him to turn his gaze to you once again. Smiling broadly, he moves ever so slowly, dipping down beside you as he looks at the butterfly on your hand.
“I see now why they call them ‘butterfly kisses,’“ you whisper, feeling the pitter patter of its wings on your hands, “the movement is so soft against the skin.”
Giggling as it flies off, you feel Matthew lightly take your hand, running his thumb over the place that the butterfly had left empty.
“I love butterfly kisses,” he says absent-mindlessly.
Leaning in to his face, you press your eyelashes against his cheek, fluttering them until he giggles. He pulls his head to the side, slowly turning his gaze back to your eyes.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his breath hot on your face.
Stunned in to silence, he leans in and plants a very light kiss on your lips, his grip on your hand tightening ever so lightly.
Slowly leaning into it, you feel his hand slowly migrate to the back of your head, his fingers entwining your luscious curls as his tongue slowly parts your lips.
Pulling back, panting lightly, your eyes flash with mystery as you lower your voice and ask, “Do you enjoy a bit of mischief?”
Watching his eyebrows tick up a notch, he rebuttals, “What kind of mischief were you thinking?”
“The kind that ends with a kiss in a car,” you smirk, the scent of coffee wafting off of his chuckle.
“So, the perfect kind,” he mutters, his hand slowly drifting back down to your forearm.
“Let’s go,” you say, jumping off the chair and whipping him around.
“Wait! Where are we going!?” he yells after you, bounding thru his house as he tries to keep up.
“Anywhere!” you yell back, throwing his front door wide open. “It’s the weekend, we could go do anything!” you exclaim, throwing your arms out.
And as the two of you hop in his car, no clothes to speak of and no destination to end at, Matthew cranks his station wagon and backs out of the driveway, taking a left down the road and connecting with the highway heading east.
“Drive until dusk?” he asks, looking at your excited face.
“Drive until dusk,” you say, smiling as you take his hand.