She is beautiful. Never in my life have I seen a woman so gorgeous. I stare at her like I'm in a trance. I must be, because it's impossible to look away. Her red lips. Her soft closed eyes. He long blonde hair. Her hips. Her hands in the red sparkly...
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She kissed me. Twice. In one day. Jackpot. As I look at her, a grin still lingering on my face, I notice her expression shift—like a switch flipping, her tone changing as if someone rewired her thoughts.
"You enjoyed that way too much," she says with a teasing smile.
"How could I not enjoy it?" I answer simply, still caught up in the warmth of the moment.
"Well, good night, fuckface," she says, playfully rolling her eyes.
"Goodnight, Princess."
And just like that, we settle into bed, but I can't stop thinking about her. I can't stop thinking about the kiss we shared. My whole body hums with excitement every time the memory flashes in my mind. She's lying right beside me, so close yet still feeling so distant. How can someone so beautiful, so incredible, exist in this world, let alone be right here with me?
I glance over at her, her peaceful face softened by the dim light. How could someone like her have lived through so much and still be so strong, so... radiant? Before I met her, I was drifting. I didn't have a purpose, didn't know what I wanted from life. But now, everything feels clearer.
I finally know what I want—what I need. My purpose is to be with her. She's not just some girl I stumbled upon; she's my heaven, my light in this chaos. The thought makes my chest tighten with both longing and fear—fear of losing her, fear that I might not be enough to keep her.
But for now, I'm just grateful she's here, lying next to me. I glance over one last time, watching her chest rise and fall slowly, rhythmically. She's my Angel, even if she doesn't know it.
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I feel him stirring next to me, his quiet breaths mixing with mine in the darkness. I told myself this was nothing—that it didn't mean anything. It was just a kiss, right? But lying here, so close to him, I can't help but wonder if I'm fooling myself. I can sense him looking at me, probably thinking all kinds of sweet, ridiculous things about the two of us. He always does that—finds the good in everything, in me.
But he doesn't know the real me. The messy parts. The broken pieces I hide so well behind my smile. I feel a pang of guilt. He deserves someone better, someone whole. But here I am, tangled up in these strange feelings I don't fully understand, and he's making me feel things I've spent years trying to avoid. Maybe it's because, for the first time in a long while, I feel... safe.
