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His name was Caleb.

We met at a protest in Washington D.C. in 2011, and he grabbed my hand to pull me along with the crowd. Thrilling and unforgettable, it was two minutes that seared itself into my skin like a scar. Two minutes, and this memory would never fade.

I assumed I'd never see him again, but three months later he was there. We were sitting on the roof of a hotel in London, looking out over the west side of the city near midnight, when he turned to me and smiled.

"Do you want to go on an adventure?" He asked, flicking the ashes off his cigarette.

My heart slammed into my ribcage from where I perched opposite him, my shin still screaming from where I scraped it climbing over obstacles to the edge of the roof.

I nodded and grinned, "Of course. I live for adventures."

"Meet me downstairs in ten minutes."

Time flies, as time so often does, and soon we were walking along empty city streets side by side. Virtually strangers, I found myself laughing with him as if we'd known each other for millennia. We were fated, it seemed, having met once on the opposite side of the world only to be brought together across the ocean.

He tugged me through London as we talked of the future, of dreams, of disappointments, and of the most random shit I could possibly imagine.

"It's all in the body language," he laughed. "You just have to know what you're doing."

"And you do?"

Caleb nodded, taking a step toward me.

"I do."

My breath hitched in my chest, blood rushing through my ears, as I stared up at him. He was only taller than me by a few inches, just enough that I had to tip my chin back to study his face, and I raked my gaze over his features. I could barely make out his dark hair in the moonlight, disheveled from a long day of meetings, while his piercing blue eyes stared back at me. His lips quirked up at one corner as he stepped forward.

"I know I can make someone feel uncomfortable in a split second," he murmured, gradually closing the distance between us, while his eyes stayed locked with mine. "It's easy."

Time itself seemed to stand still. Could he hear my pulse racing beneath my skin? The air between us felt like it was charged with electricity, and - despite the oxygen flooding my lungs - I felt breathless, weightless, senseless. Like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, with every fiber in my being screaming at me to do it.

"And how do you do that?" I asked, shivering.

I could feel his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned forward, and the scent of the baklava we'd shared on a restaurant patio wafted over me. His lips brushed across my ear, sending lightning down my spine, as he leaned forward.

"Like this."

Thanks for reading my entry for the #MidnightSunMovie contest!

Believe it or not, this is actually based on a real-life experience of mine.

After leaving the top of a building in West London, we wandered through the streets after midnight — climbed the fence into Hyde Park and played like kids whilst climbing statues — before sitting at a corner cafe eating baklava at 2AM.

Names and certain details have been changed - and someone fictionalized ;) - but it's one of those crazy and real stories.

Love,

Jandra