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Not in real life.

Honestly, Zeke Gordon could make a fortune modeling.

He’s got this rugged cowboy meets Viking god look.

All intense eyes and dark waves of hair you want to get lost in.

But something tells me that world isn’t for him.

Too staged. Too fake.

Zeke’s real. Raw edges and dangerous fire.

And even though I hardly know him, I feel him.

When he’s close, my skin prickles.

When he speaks, all of me listens.

And when he kisses me—God, when he kisses me—I swear something inside me cracks wide open.

Is it stupid that I feel possessive?

That I want him to look only at me, touch only me?

I hardly know him. And still, I don’t want to go to bed right now.

I don’t want to go inside. Don’t want to turn away from him.

I’m not particularly superstitious, but it’s like the night is doing something to me.

Stars erupt across the navy sky, and it’s magical. All of it is.

The soft firelight.

The laughter fading into embers.

The moon above us, so bright and unbothered.

It’s like the whole world softened its edges just enough to let me dream again.

And now, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been foolish.

Foolish to run from every feeling that wasn’t fear.

Foolish to build walls so high I forgot how to climb out.

Foolish to think love was something I wasn’t built for.

Because here, in this strange, beautiful place—an honest to God working New Jersey ranch—with this man, I don’t feel foolish anymore.

I feel awake.

And maybe it’s not so foolish to want something real.

Maybe it's brave.

Maybe it's time.