"You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly." -Sam Keen
As I looked up into his enticing green eyes— my head resting on his lap, his hand absently stroking my hair— I found it hard to believe that we started out how we did. The horrible feelings I got when I was first brought into his presence. Bitterness, distrust, pure writhing antipathy and resentment— all words to describe what I saw in his eyes, that very first night I met him, and many others to come. It was weird thinking back to those days when we were practically enemies, so full of loathing, caught up in the foulness of the moment, we never gave the other the chance.
Apparently I was still staring up at him while I was spacing out, because I realized he was chuckling softly and gazing down at me.
"Is my face really that interesting to you, love?" he asked sweetly, though amusement was clear in his eyes.
"No." I grumbled and hit him lightly on his chest, petulant at being caught staring at him, again.
He feigned extreme agony and stopped stroking my hair to bring his hand to his chest. I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. Yeah, I was that immature at the moment.
"Drama Queen- I mean Prince...or um King," I mentally chastised myself for potentially bringing up the inevitable subject. Luckily, he just sighed and turned his attention back to the giant TV hung up on his- or should I say our- bedroom wall.
I got up and rolled over to lie down on the bed, propping my chin into my hands. When I glanced over to look at him, he was no longer sitting on the lounge. Instead, he surprised me by wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me until I was gently sitting on top of him. I shot him a disapproving glare and was well prepared to smack his chest again, when he pressed his lips on mine. At first I tried pulling back, but eventually gave up and melted into his kiss.
I just couldn't resist this guy.