She would sit there, in that little coffee shop waiting for him to tumble inside, his curls scattered across his face, and his lips pulled into an infinite scowl.
And she'd marvel over his beauty. He never noticed her, but she'd sit there for hours, memorizing each and every feature that graced his perfect being.
For her, he was like a drug, something that had grabbed hold of her in its malevolent claws and no matter how hard she struggled, no matter how hard she fought, she could not escape it's clutches. But, part of her never had wanted to escape. It was official. She was addicted. She lived for the few hours each day she got to see him.
His luscious curls brought a smile to her face. And on the rare occasion that he smiled, the small dimpled that momentarily graced his cheek made her pulse race. His eyes. They were they reason she found herself coming back day after day. His eyes were endless pools of green. She could easily find herself lost in them.
His tattoos. Oh god those tattoos. Each with there own meaning. A secret written permanently in ink on his perfectly tanned flesh. Oh how she wanted to extend her petite fingers and trace them gently, endlessly, to feel his soft skin beneath her fingertips. But, of course it could never be.