#14: Saturday night.

Saturday night. They could have been doing a hundred different things.

In the last few hours of the day, they could have spent their time in the company of other people. Downing tequila shots at a shitty hole-in-the-wall bar downtown. Mingling with friends at a party, forced to listen to slurred anecdotes that they were only half-interested in hearing about.

But they just wanted to be together. In a room, alone, watching the orange glow of the evening sun casting shadows on their faces. Fingers interlaced, noses touching, skin to skin. He only wanted to memorise her smell, her taste, the curves of her waist. She traced the freckles on his skin, slowly connecting the dots like constellations. Silence filled the air; they didn’t need to string words together to articulate their thoughts in each other’s company. A touch, a stare, a smile.

Saturday night. They could have been doing a hundred other things. But this Saturday, they only wanted to be here. Now.

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