I woke up on Saturday morning with a nervous excitement that made me question my sanity.
The pink dress Daniel had sent was folded neatly on my bed, soft and inviting, and I couldn't help but stare at it like it held some magical power. My hair had to cooperate, my skin had to glow — and my brain had to stop overthinking everything. Impossible? Probably. But hey, first proper date with Daniel.
I tried on the dress, it hugged me just right, flowed when I moved, and for some reason, made me feel taller, lighter, and ridiculously hopeful. He had actually thought about me — really thought about me. And I didn't even know what that meant for my heart yet.
By the time I'd wrestled with my hair, makeup, and a half-hearted attempt at putting on heels without toppling over, my phone buzzed.
7:00 p.m. sharp. Don't be late. — D
I rolled my eyes. Cute. So cute it made my stomach do that weird flutter again. I told myself it was anxiety. Definitely not butterflies.
The moment arrived faster than I wanted it to. I peeked out the window just as a sleek car rolled into view. My heart tripped over itself when I saw him step out. Flowers in hand. Real flowers. A bouquet that smelled like summer mornings.
I froze. Seriously. Who did this? Who brought flowers on a first "proper" date?
He smiled when he noticed me at the window and gave a little wave. My stomach did that insane flippy thing again. Okay. Butterflies. Definitely.
I grabbed my bag, smoothed the dress, and walked down, careful not to trip over the hem, though my brain screamed you're going to fall right in front of him.
He opened the car door before I could, holding the bouquet like he was auditioning for a rom-com.
"You look… ethereal," he said, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that made my knees weaken slightly.
"Uh… thanks?" I stammered, my brain refusing to function normally. "You, um… also look… like a normal human being." Smooth. Really smooth, Jen. Way to go.
He chuckled, and I nearly forgot to breathe. The ride to the restaurant was filled with light conversation, little jokes, and a lot of my internal screaming. I tried to act normal, but every time he glanced my way, I felt like I was back in the library — only now my heart was doing gymnastics I hadn't signed up for.
Dinner was… incredible. Not just the food — which was fancy enough to make me question why I'd ever survived on instant noodles — but the way he made everything feel effortless. He listened, genuinely laughed at my jokes, and somehow made me feel like the only person in the world.
"You really are something," he said during dessert, handing me a bite of chocolate cake.
"Something?" I asked cautiously, suspicious of compliments that sounded too good to be true.
"Everything. Beautiful, funny, smart… unpredictable." He grinned, eyes sparkling. "Like a book I can't put down."
Cue internal swoon. My face heated. "That's… uh… sweet. And cheesy. And maybe a little dangerous."
He raised a brow, teasing. "Cheesy and dangerous. My kind of girl."
After dinner, he drove me home. The city lights blurred past as the car hummed softly, and I realized I didn't want this night to end. But it had to.
He stopped in front of my building, flowers still in hand. I took a breath. "Thank you for tonight," I said.
"No," he said, tilting his head. "Thank you for letting me take you out."
He paused, then added softly, "Can I… kiss you?"
My brain short-circuited. This was new territory. But his gaze was steady, respectful, and something in me whispered yes.
I nodded.
His lips brushed mine lightly, just for a moment — teasing, warm, and absolutely perfect. Not too much, not too little. Enough to make my stomach do somersaults and my mind go blank.
We pulled away slightly, grinning at each other. "Well," I said, laughing nervously, "that was… nice."
"That was amazing," he corrected, eyes crinkling at the corners.
That night, my phone blew up. Texts from him — sweet, flirty, a little funny.
Can't stop thinking about tonight.
You looked like you stepped out of a dream.
I laughed, replying, trying to match his energy without looking too desperate. Somehow, it worked.
Two weeks later, I came home to a huge package at my door. My curiosity skyrocketed before I even opened it. Inside was a plush teddy bear holding a tiny bouquet of flowers and a note written in Daniel's neat handwriting:
Will you please be my girlfriend? You are everything I need. Your beauty is out of this world, your figure… amazing. You're smart, funny, kind — I don't know how I got lucky, but I did. Please say yes.
Alongside it were chocolates, individually wrapped with tiny bows.
I stared at everything, grinning like a fool. He wasn't subtle. He didn't need to be.
I texted him immediately: Are you kidding me?
His reply was instant: Never. You're mine if you want to be.
So we started dating. Properly. Not just library smiles or ice cream runs. Not just first kisses or awkward butterfly-filled moments.
It was real, warm, funny, and utterly chaotic in the best way.
And as much as I wanted to protect my heart, I realized that maybe, just maybe, some butterflies were worth feeling.
Because Daniel… I had no idea how much danger I was in.