I came home, carrying both books; mine and hers. And I wanted to know what kind of books she enjoys reading so much, so I opened the book. On the first page after the title Looking For Alaska, I found those words: If found, return to Lorelay. They were written by her, so that explains why they looked so perfect. And I couldn't resist of smelling the book, founding out some of her smell remained between the pages.
The story was beautiful, but sad. I kept asking myself if she's like that as well. If that's the case I wouldn't mind whipping the tears of her red cheeks and hold her while she cries. Because the book was written by a man, the words perfectly described my feelings towards her.
There was that one excerpt I found really beautiful. It said: "I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane."
Because that's the way I felt. All of the other girls were just to look at and porn didn't make sense anymore. Of course I wanted to make love to her, but I wouldn't mind just holding her hand and fixing her hair behind her ears as she'd smile so wide that I'd forget my smile wasn't real for a year.
I knew I could never be enough for her, but fuck. I'm willing to spend my every day proving that I'm worthy of her. I might make a fool out of myself but I don't care. I only want her.
As my mind was filled with the thought of her and my hand flipped the last page, I saw a note sticking out: "That was my favourite book. I want to discover your mind by reading your favourite book. Meet me at the bench on Friday when the sun starts hiding behind the mountain tops."
When I read it, my mouth instantly formed a grin, extending to my ears. She wanted to see me. I was the kind to highlight the quotes from books I liked best, but I didn't want to ruin her book in case she wouldn't like it. So I just put a note on the page where the quote I told you before was laying on. I hope she smiles at least half as much as I did when she discovers it.
YOU ARE READING
THE ONE
Romance"I don't know how it is that you are so familiar to me - or why it feels less like I'm getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclucion that I have kno...
