He was nothing like the men who usually caught her attention. He wasn’t dangerously charming; as a matter of fact he was a bit quiet and at first glance seemed somewhat dull. He didn’t say things that swept anybody off their feet; instead he was somewhat awkward and quite frankly unnecessarily blunt. He wasn’t dark and handsome; he was completely unremarkable and a bit frumpy. He wasn’t a man who led a particularly interesting life; instead he was content in the anonymity of his quiet existence. So then why was it that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, that she spent a good part of the day yearning to feel his touch and to be in the presence of his smile, a smile so sincere it made her heart swell? Then why was it that the most perfect place in the universe was in his arms?
Could it be because every time she was ready to give up on him he said something so unexpectedly sweet it made her forget any annoyance? Could it be that every time he kissed her he did so, tenderly but with an undertone of passion that left her breathless? Could it be that every time he looked at her he did so with a wonderment reserved for things of magnificance? Could it be because every time he made love to her, he made sure not to leave an inch of her body neglected?
The boy had come unexpectedly into her life and somehow had managed to turn it upside down. It had been weeks since she stopped making any sense and she hated the fact that she cared if he called, that she felt her heart sink when that call didn’t come. She got mad when she would catch herself day dreaming of him in the middle of work or when her mind involuntarily drifted away to the events that had occurred the previous night in his bedroom. She hated the fact that he had the power to make her mad, to make her smile, to make her act downright silly. What she hated even more was that it was her who had allowed this to happen; somehow she had let him into her life and from the look of things, into her heart.