"I’m not sure what it is about you that makes me want to tackle you to the ground and kiss you senseless, but I’m not fighting it." - Jasinda Wilder

Katerina

My alarm blared at 6:30, a jarring intrusion into the peaceful world of sleep. I groaned and instinctively reached for the snooze button, but then I remembered. Thursday. Coffee with Ethan. A smile bloomed on my face, chasing away the usual Monday morning grogginess. I wasn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but today, I woke up feeling surprisingly… good.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, Maximus stretching languidly at my feet. "Morning, buddy," I chirped, already feeling more energetic than usual. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and, for once, didn't completely recoil in horror. Sleep-rumpled hair, puffy eyes… the usual. But today, it didn't seem so bad. Maybe it was the lingering afterglow of Saturday night, the anticipation of seeing Ethan again.

After a quick shower and a slightly more presentable version of myself, I headed downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. I poured myself a mug and settled at the kitchen table, Maximus settling at my feet. I scrolled through my emails, trying to mentally prepare myself for the week ahead. But my mind kept wandering back to Ethan.

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He was… different. There was a quiet confidence about him, a warmth that made me feel instantly at ease. And he was funny. Genuinely funny. Not the forced, trying-too-hard kind of funny. His jokes were quirky and unexpected, and they made me laugh. The kind of laugh that bubbles up from deep inside.

I thought about our conversation at the club. He’d told me about his… well, about his eclectic career. He was a jack-of-all-trades, he’d said, running his own company that dabbled in everything from trading to art to… even restoring classic cars. It was a surprising mix, a little chaotic, but I liked it. It suited him. It was clear he was passionate about everything he did, and that passion was infectious. It made him seem… vibrant. Like there was always something interesting happening in his world.

I’d shared some of my own stories, like my disastrous attempt at learning to play the ukulele. Okay, “learning” might be too strong of a word. It was more like one tequila-fueled night with Phoebe, convinced we were going to become the next musical duo sensation. We weren't. My brief but memorable career as a dog walker (Maximus had opinions about that one) was slightly more successful. He’d listened intently, his whiskey-colored eyes never leaving mine. He’d made me feel… seen. Like he actually cared about what I had to say. It was a refreshing change from the usual dating scene, where conversations often felt like a competition for who could talk about themselves the most. And I'd been careful to mention that those were just odd jobs I'd picked up while in college, not my actual career aspirations.

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough. I was actually looking forward to a date. A real date. With a real, genuine, intriguing man. A man who was a fascinating mix of… well, everything, really. A man who made me laugh. A man who… well, a man who kissed like a dream.

I finished my coffee, a smile playing on my lips. Today was going to be a good day. A day that was one step closer to Thursday. And I had a feeling that Thursday was going to be… amazing.