Chapter 4: Touch Me Through the Screen
677 Words
Distance was never supposed to feel this close.
After their first meet in Paris, where Gia had blushed her way through soft kisses and stolen glances, Noah returned to his college in NY.
What followed wasn’t silence—it was something louder than presence: a four-month-long virtual romance.
Gia never thought a call could feel like a kiss. But with Noah, every late-night whisper across the phone line felt like he was right there, fingertips brushing her skin, smile tucked into her neck. They talked every single day—sometimes for minutes, often for hours. The awkwardness was long gone; in its place bloomed comfort, chemistry, and curiosity.
“Do you remember the way your fingers grazed mine when we walked along the streets?” Noah once asked in a voice lower than usual, almost like a confession.
Gia smiled against the pillow. “I remember the way you looked at me like I was art.”
“I still do, Gia,” he said. “Even if it’s through this damn screen.”
Their chats started to heat up by the second month. It began subtly—compliments laced with teasing.
Noah: “That top you wore yesterday… red suits you. Makes me want to unwrap you like a gift.”
Gia: “Shut up.”
Noah: “Make me. Or better, let me shut you up with my mouth next time.”
She’d type a response and delete it five times. Then finally send something bold.
Gia: “If you were here, I wouldn’t stop you.”
From there, things escalated.
They started exchanging pictures—not nudes, but intimate snapshots. Gia would send a snap of her legs under a cozy blanket, or a soft close-up of her lips wearing the gloss he once complimented. Noah sent mirror selfies after workouts, damp hair and towel slung low.
Gia: “That towel is hanging dangerously low, mister.”
Noah: “Maybe I was hoping it’d fall. For you.”
He made her laugh with dirty jokes and blush with heartfelt compliments. He never rushed her. Every flirty text had an undercurrent of respect—and desire.
On one night, the air between them grew electric.
Noah: “Tell me what you’re wearing.”
Gia: “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Noah: “I’m imagining that oversized tee of yours… no pants, just thighs. Tell me I’m right.”
She hesitated. Then gave in.
Gia: “You’re right. Just the tee. No panties.”
His reply came fast.
Noah: “F**k. Gia, you’re going to be the death of me.”
That night, their chat was all whispers and wicked fantasies. They described touches they couldn’t give yet, kisses they craved, breaths they’d steal. It was new for Gia, but Noah guided her gently, never pushing—only inviting.
“Are you okay?” he asked even in the middle of a steamy voice note.
She whispered back, “I feel wanted. Safe. Yours.”
They didn’t need to touch to feel close. Gia learned that trust could grow across distance—rooted in late-night honesty and confessions made in the dark. She opened up about her fears, her past heartbreaks. Noah shared his own cracks—the family drama, and the girls he has dated before ,the years he built walls around his heart.
“Why me?” Gia had once asked.
Noah didn’t flinch. “Because you see me. Not the version I show. The real me. And that terrifies me in the best way.”
By the end of the fourth month, they had a rhythm. Morning snaps. Mid-day memes. Evening voice notes. Midnight confessions. And on some nights, soft moans through the phone that said I miss you better than any words.
But beneath the flirting and fire, something else was growing—intimacy. Not just of skin, but of soul.
And as the fourth month neared, one truth became clear:
They weren’t just doing long-distance.
They were falling in love—one text, one tease, one trust at a time.
- Writer
