For you…

The first boy I ever loved and I are still in touch. He lives in the UK, we catch up when we are anywhere in proximity, which of course isn’t often.

A recent situation reminded me of a sweet moment with him, of which there are many. Sweet moments, I mean.

He had invited some of his friends over for dinner. He was cooking. I was hovering in the kitchen with him, sipping a cold glass of white wine, avoiding having to socialise.

He was madly busy; chopping, mixing, checking things on the stove, in the oven. I always enjoyed watching him create food. It was wonderfully sexy.

He had me taste something. I’ve forgotten what it was. Delicious. He was a wonderful cook.

“Mmm… yum! They will love it…”, I said.

He paused in the maelstrom of activity and looked at me.

“I don’t care what they think,” he said. “I’m making this for you.”

*swoon*

There might have been kissing after that.

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