"Tonight, victory will be mine!"
I wait patiently behind her as she rummages through her handbag in search of her house keys. Part of me still can't believe I'm here; I'd lost hope of a moment like this ever happening a long time ago. It seemed, however, that luck was on my side. I just can't believe I've been able to resist her this long.
As Rachel finally pulls the jangling keys out of her bag, I give into temptation. My hands wrap around her waist, pulling her backwards into me. I lean down, nudging aside the collar of her bright pink jacket and white t-shirt with the tip of my nose before pressing my lips to the newly exposed skin of her neck. She squeals loudly, caught off guard by my sudden contact, and then begins to squirm in my grasp, her laughter echoing into the night all around us – I mentally take note that her neck is particularly sensitive, for future reference.
I hope the whole world can hear her happiness.
Managing to free herself from my clutches, she spins around to face me, her eyes aflame with passion and her cheeks flushed luscious pink. She stands on her tiptoes, pulling me forwards towards her, ensuring that our lips meet for the lightest of kisses. She then takes my hand and together we cross the threshold; both of her house and of our relationship so far.
She kicks off her trainers and leaves them strewn carelessly in the hallway on top of a rather vast pile of other shoes, something that amuses me greatly as I never took her as the messy sort. She knows what I am thinking and thumps me playfully in the chest.
"Don't think you're getting out of it either, Lawson," she tells me, looking accusingly at my own shoes and raising an eyebrow. "I'll get some drinks; the lounge is through there when you've taken them off. Make yourself at home." I watch her walk disappear through one of the many doors leading out of the hallway before adding my shoes to her pile, where they sit as if nothing out of the ordinary.
If her shoe keeping skills were unexpected then her lounge wasn't. It was everything I would have imagined Rachel's lounge to have been like. It was elegant and stylish. The walls were neutral, decorated with patterned artwork full of deep reds and midnight blacks. In the centre of the opposite wall stood a magnificent working fireplace, painted a glassy black to match the rest of the room, the mantle home to picture frame upon picture frame featuring the many frozen moments from before I knew her. I knew I would have plenty of time to study each one at a later date; tonight wasn't the time.
Instead, a take a seat on the settee which is opposite the fire place. I notice a worn, dishevelled rug at my feet, positioned directly in front of the fireplace. It is the only thing that seems out of place in the whole room. I reach down and run my fingers through the material and realise it's the softest thing I've ever felt. My mind conjures images of me and Rachel sat on it on a cold winter night, cuddled together whilst watching the flames dance before our eyes as they spread warmth throughout our bodies.
"It was Mums." I sit up quickly and turn to face the doorway where she is standing, leant against the frame, the promised drinks sitting within her grasp.
"It's beautiful," I tell her and I see her face light up. She enters the room, walking swiftly towards the settee, sitting next to me and curling her legs underneath herself. "Thanks," I reach out and relive her of the one of the glasses of red wine she has carried through with her from the kitchen. Our fingers touch briefly as the instrument exchanges hands, causing our eyes to be drawn together involuntarily. She smiles widely, contentedly and it's as though the whole room lights up around her. Her happiness is contagious; it radiates from her and it makes me feel so alive. With my free hand, I reach up and gently tuck a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear and she giggles shyly, the unfamiliarity of our situation apparent for the first time this evening.