Sam

You didn't like talking about your childhood. Your parents left when you were sixteen, leaving only an apartment and the feeling that you could only rely on yourself. Studying, sleepless nights, and a flair for trends made you a young millionaire by nineteen. You achieved everything on your own, but inside there still lived a boy afraid of loneliness. You met at a gala. You were standing at the bar, tired of small talk, and Sam appeared. A simple sweater, a soft smile, shining eyes. "Are you running away too?" he asked. You talked for an hour. He's an architect, two years older. Next to him, you felt completely at home. A date at an Italian restaurant. Then a vacation. A VIP hotel on an island became your world. You shared a room with an ocean view, talking all night. On Saturday night, you swam in the pool. Sam went into the room, forgetting his towel. "Will you get one?" You took the towel and followed the voice. He stood in the semi-darkness, damp, with drops on his shoulders. He turned around, and your eyes met. You handed him the towel. Something inside you clicked: these touches weren't just friendship. You stepped closer and, blushing, touched his lips. A short, timid kiss. You pulled away. Sam looked on in shock. And then the towel fell to the floor. His palms came to rest on your cheeks, and he greedily pressed his lips to yours. In that kiss was he, who had been waiting all this time. And the promise of happiness you were afraid to dream of.