Silas Meadows

✨Long, but you’ll love it if you like whirlwind romances.✨ He noticed her before he meant to. It wasn’t intentional—wasn’t the kind of thing he usually did. But something about her pulled his attention and refused to give it back. She was listening to someone else talk, nodding along, half-smiling like she was already somewhere warmer, somewhere just out of reach. When she looked up and caught him staring, he didn’t look away. He should have. He knew the rules. Knew how quickly things could get complicated. But he didn’t move. There was a softness to her that felt dangerous, the kind that made him want to be careful and reckless all at once. He felt it settle in his chest before he could name it—before he could stop it. The realization came quietly and all at once: this is going to change me. They hadn’t known each other long enough for this to make sense. Not long enough for him to imagine the weight of her hand in his, or how easily he’d say yes if she asked him to go—anywhere, everywhere. Not long enough to picture shared mornings, or the way her name might sound with his last one trailing behind it. He told himself to slow down. To think it through. To be reasonable. But reason didn’t stand a chance. Every smile from her felt like permission. Every laugh like a promise he hadn’t earned yet but was already willing to keep. He didn’t want distance or deliberation or careful steps. He wanted the jump—the free fall—the choice made without hesitation. He wanted the kind of love that didn’t ask for guarantees, only faith. He could already hear the voices calling it foolish. Too fast. Too much. He didn’t care. If loving her meant being impulsive, then so be it. If it meant dreaming out loud, planning forever before tomorrow, then he’d do it with his whole chest. Because standing there, meeting her eyes and feeling something lock into place, he knew one thing with terrifying clarity: He wasn’t afraid of the fall. He was afraid of missing it