I opened my eyes to complete darkness as the faint knocking was becoming increasingly repetitive. I let myself soak into the cool, black air, where I felt most comfortably in, as I allowed myself to adjust to the surroundings that had been cast in a dark atmosphere, covering each danger.

A sudden realisation of the world around me seemed to trigger a switch in my eyes where each simply black area had been, lines of detail seemed to emerge themselves into my vision, flowing with some sort of expectation of the real world where nothing was hidden from this worlds eye.

I sighed as a sudden rapid amount of banging rushed into my hearing, the knocking obvious done by human hands.

Dragging myself from the warm covers of my bed, I slipped into a nearby, piece of warm clothing, letting it drip over my bare shoulders, and wrapping it around my thinly covered body, I let my feet delicately step through the darkness.

“Aish!” my voice yelled, feeling a sharp, sudden pain inject at the bottom of bare foot. Feeling my body fall backwards onto the corner of my haven of warmth and sheets I had only recently emigrated from, I lift my foot to inspect what might have had the nerve to attack it.

My face scrunched up in horror as I dropped my eyes to the criminal, seeing the long, thin pin of a beautiful flower corsage – that, in the present, limited light, seemed to look terribly incriminating – harbour itself handsomely in the skin of the bottom of my foot.

It was surprising how my body soon got used to the pain that this small piece of metal was causing me that I convinced myself that pulling it right back out again was the best plan. Letting my fingers wrap around the end of the needle that hadn't yet entered my body, I slowly began to pull it into the air where it had let itself live in.

My brain suddenly objected to this as soon as the pain that I had experienced only a few moments ago came rushing back. Feeling a scream pushing through my throat I ripped the needle out of my skin and bit my lip hard, stopping myself from letting out any unaccustomed sounds entering the air.

“You know what they say?” his voice infiltrated my thoughts as my gaze fixed on each petal of the flower attached to my unjustified attacker.

“No, what do they say?” my voice sounded as I tried not to show how my body reacted to his closeness to me, his warm breath tickling my bare shoulder, seeming to overpower the force of the breeze that gently rattled the curls of my long dark hair that had firmly been secured in an updo.

I heard him chuckle at my remark, and as I continued to wave off one of my closest friends with her new husband.

The deep ripples of his voice reached my ears again as they formed the words, “That the maid of honour and the best man are supposed to get together.”

Even though I refused to turn around and look at him in the face, I knew that he was smirking.

And yet, even though his words deemed themselves as part of a joke, each syllable effected every part of me like a wind chime, as one part is pushed by the oncoming breeze, every other part in jangles to the beat that the first one started.

It was his voice that had set off a new lease of butterflies hatching in my stomach. It was his breath that tickled each area of skin it treasured enough to breath on.

“Oh, you dropped this,” he exclaimed with a much more maturity about his tone.

I turned around and watched as he bent down and picked up the large flower corsage I had pinned onto the strap of my dress for this very evening.

As he lifted his body up, his gaze rose and met mine, a warmth in his eyes wrapping around me, almost like a hidden protection. And now was the first time me seeing him, really.

His dark hair swept effortlessly over his eyes, and framing his masculine face, holding a slight feeling of purity. My gaze fluttered down his neckline, each nerve creating a strong, attractive structure. The suit he wore fitted his body perfectly, almost like it was made only for him, his arm muscles highlighted with a scent of security with them. The soft pink of his lips curved up into a cheeky smile as he suggested that he help pin it on for me.

“Ah, no, it's okay,” I stumbled over the letters stuck in my throat,, panicking at his intimate gesture, trying to reach out for the corsage he held softly in his grip.

“It's no problem,” he said, smiling, a hint of flirtatiousness peeking though.

Reluctantly, I let his fingers slowly pin the corsage back onto the dress of my strap. This touch of his seemed to effect every section of skin it traced, a tingle in every single spot.

“So, do you want to go out for a drink sometime?” he mumbled, his gaze still focused on the task he had committed himself to complete.

Feeling my mouth dry up at his single touch, I knew I couldn't form any words to enter into the air, and so let my shoulders shrug.

A deep chuckle erupted from his throat as he stopped his fingers for a few moments and lifted his gaze to meet mine, a smirk on his lips. “What do you like to drink?” was what he said next, his words not as clogged up as mine.

“Erhm,” I stuttered, trying to force something, anything, out so that I didn't completely humiliate myself in front of him. “Latte?”

He laughed then, shaking his head and pulling his eyes back to his work as I mentally hit myself for letting such useless words slip from my lips.

His fingers nimbly fixed the corsage back to it's proud and rightful position. “I'll buy you one then, sometime.”

The knocking began again, waking me from the land of memories I no longer belonged in.

Dropping the corsage onto the bed, I hurried out my room and down the stairs, clutching onto my clothing so that I wouldn't lose my one source of warmth.

“Coming!” I called, running down the stairs, my bare feet hitting the cold bare wood with a sharp bitterness each step that I took.

Besides, he hadn't kept in touch since that evening, why did I expect him to buy me a latte, even if he promised it?

Reaching the front door in the darkness that surrounded me. The street lights were visible through the small, glass window in the entering door, however they only reached my vision around the silhouette that stood firmly outside my house.

It had been almost 4 weeks since that day and he hadn't made any effort to keep in touch. It was pointless waiting for him.

I reached out my hand and wrapped my fingers around the piercingly cold, metal handle. Pushing down firmly, I let the door swing open to reveal a tall, masculine man, his soft, dark brown hair sweeping carelessly over his gorgeous eyes in the same way it had that previous evening. The breath that had touched my skin was now obvious as the condensation escaped his lips in the cold, midnight air. He had pulled up his jacket so that it wrapped around his neck, keeping him warm to the best of its ability. I stood, staring, at the man I had been waiting almost a month for, his magic fingers either, if on the left hand, stuffed into his jacket pocket, or, on the right, hidden behind his tall, structural body.

As a warm smile spread across his lips, he pulled, from behind his back, a welcoming mug of latte, the newly formed steam rising willingly from the top.

My gaze fixed on him as I felt a tear prick the corner of my eye, hearing that deep voice say, “I think I promised you one of these.”

And that's when I smiled.