fakediary

David held me close, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

He lowered his face toward my neck and breathed in slowly, as though he were trying to memorize my scent. Then he brushed his cheek against my hair, gathering a few strands between his fingers and letting them slip gently through his hand.

There was something almost childlike about his curiosity.

He seemed like someone discovering the world through his senses for the very first time. He touched my hair, studied my hands, and occasionally leaned in to breathe in the scent of my skin.

I suppose he was making up for lost time.

For months, he had known me through words, photographs, and the occasional video call. He knew the sound of my voice, the expressions I made when I was annoyed, and the way I laughed when something genuinely amused me.

But he had never known what I smelled like. He had never felt the texture of my hair or the warmth of my skin.

All those ordinary details that people take for granted when they’re physically together had been denied to us.

And now, at last, he seemed determined to take them all in.

I let him.

His quiet fascination gradually eased my nervousness. There was something reassuring about being held with such tenderness, about realizing that he was just as captivated by the reality of me as I was by the reality of him.

Eventually, I gathered enough courage to turn toward him.

Our faces were only inches apart.

For the first time, I could look at him properly. Not through a screen, not through the distorted perspective of a camera, but with my own eyes.

He had thick black hair and warm, tanned skin. His nose was high and beautifully shaped, giving his face a distinct, almost sculpted profile. His lips were well-defined, with a softness that contrasted with the sharper lines of his features.

And his eyes.

They were perhaps the most interesting thing about him.

There was a certain coolness to them, a quiet composure that made him appear almost difficult to read. Yet when he looked at me, that coolness seemed to soften into something unexpectedly gentle.

It was a curious combination.

He could look distant and affectionate at the same time.

When he noticed me studying him, the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile. Just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the braces on his teeth.

I smiled back.

I had seen those braces in photographs before, but somehow, seeing them in person made him seem more real. They added a touch of boyishness to an otherwise handsome, rather self-possessed face.

He really was handsome.

I had always thought so, of course. But there was a difference between knowing someone was attractive and having that person sitting close enough that you could count his eyelashes.

Without thinking, I raised my hand toward his face.

My fingertips brushed his cheek.

He remained still as I traced the line of his jaw, then moved upward along the curve of his cheekbone. I ran a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose and stopped near the corner of his mouth.

He watched me with quiet amusement.

I wondered whether I looked as fascinated as he had a moment earlier.

Probably.

I was still having difficulty believing he was actually there.

The face I had seen countless times on my phone was now beneath my fingertips. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the faint texture of it, the subtle movement of his jaw when he smiled.

It was him.

Really him.

We held each other’s gaze for a long time.

Neither of us seemed particularly interested in speaking. Words had carried us this far, but for once, they felt unnecessary.

Instead, we simply looked.

I studied the shape of his eyes, the way his expression changed when he smiled, the little details a camera had never quite managed to capture.

And he looked at me with the same unhurried attention.

It felt as though we were both trying to commit the moment to memory. Not just what the other person looked like, but what it felt like to finally be together.

I wanted to remember everything.

The warmth of his hand against my back. The faint scent of soap from his shower. The way the afternoon light fell across his face.

Even the quiet hum of the air conditioner seemed worth remembering.

Then his gaze dropped briefly to my lips.

He leaned toward me.

This time, I wasn’t surprised.

I closed the small distance between us, and his lips met mine.

The kiss began softly, almost cautiously, as though we were still learning something about each other. He paused just long enough to look at me before kissing me again, more deeply this time.

I slipped my hand behind his neck and drew him closer.

The nervousness that had followed me all the way from the airport began to dissolve. I stopped thinking about whether I was behaving awkwardly, whether I should say something, or what might happen next.

For once, I wasn’t analyzing anything.

I was simply kissing him.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both a little breathless.

David smiled.

There were those braces again.

I laughed quietly, though I couldn’t have explained what was funny.

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. Then he began examining me again, as though our kiss had done nothing to satisfy his curiosity.

He kissed my forehead.

Then my cheek.

The tip of my nose.

My closed eyelids.

Every time I thought he had finished, he found another place to leave a kiss.

It was almost comical.

“Are you done?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

He shook his head.

“No.”

And kissed me again.

I laughed against his lips.

He seemed delighted by that, and for a while we remained tangled together, exchanging kisses and quiet smiles, occasionally stopping just to look at each other.

There was an unmistakable attraction between us, one that grew more apparent as the distance between our bodies disappeared.

But beneath it was something else.

Wonder, perhaps.

We had spent so long imagining what this moment might be like that actually experiencing it felt strangely unreal.

I had expected excitement. Nervousness. Maybe even awkwardness.

What I hadn’t expected was how familiar he would feel.

Or how unfamiliar.

Both sensations existed together, neither quite canceling out the other.

Here was someone who knew some of the most private parts of my mind, yet whose touch I was only beginning to discover.

Someone who had been part of my everyday life for months, but whose physical presence was entirely new.

David rested his forehead against mine.

I could feel him smiling.

“You’re really here,” he murmured.

I looked at him.

“So are you.”

It was an absurd thing to say, considering that we had been sitting together for quite some time.

But he understood.

He drew me closer, and I settled against him again.

Outside, the city continued moving. Somewhere beyond the hotel window, there were places to visit, restaurants to try, and an entire New York afternoon waiting for us.

Neither of us made any attempt to get up.

For the moment, the city could wait.