But this is how it always is with you. Always, I am excited and unsure, nervous and seventeen to the bone. But also always, I feel secure and cradled, settled-in with a knowledge that you've got it, nothing bad is going to happen as long as you're around—you won't let it.

I took a second at the entrance of the restaurant to try and compose myself, but ended up just staring at you. You. Waiting for me. For me.

I actually, physically felt myself become a cliché in that moment, wishing I'd had the sense to wear flats because, gosh, is this what going weak at the knees feels like?

It was a privilege to hear your thoughts and spend time with you. I love the way you talk, measured and steady, belying the brilliant chaotic madness of the ideas in your head. It is amazing how you are so many people wrapped into one, and I remember thinking there is little I want more in the world than to find out more about you. But at the time, I was having enough trouble sitting still in my seat and dealing with the pointy pain of blushing. Here's something men don't know: blushing hurts. Oh of course, it works as a natural rouge and can be quite becoming as a fluttering marker of femininity. But feeling like your cheeks are on fire feels like . . . your cheeks are on fire. It's very uncomfortable, blushing.

Between the dinner I couldn't touch and dessert, I grabbed the opportunity to get up and move around a bit by asking you to take a stroll by the koi pond outside the restaurant. I couldn't sit still anymore, I just couldn't. Not while my insides were roiling and dancing and generally being disobedient little children with no self-control. Later, when you paused to tell me why we were currently not making out, it occurred to me that you might have thought that's why I wanted to trace circles in the dark. It wasn't. I was just trying to breathe.

In the car on the way back home, I heard a Taylor Swift song play on the radio. I was about to turn it off reflexively, as is required of anyone wishing to preserve a shred of indie cred, but these words caught my ear—

It was enchanting to meet you

I had to stop and listen. And when I got home, I spent the rest of the night—well, doing a whole bunch of giddy, embarrassing things. ☺

Hope Greece goes well. I can hardly wait till next month.

Tara

Our second date was a substantial one. I received an envelope, embossed with Jay’s last name and holding a ticket to Singapore. There was no note, no formal invitation or intimation. I was being asked to function on faith, and I loved it.