Stories For The Hopeless Romantic

Two ~ If Only

Fire and The Flood ~ Vance Joy

He loved the feeling of her skin, smooth against his hand as they walked together out of the store. She walked with ease, her head held high as she sauntered. He smiled. That woman was a force. And he loved her.

They walked down the block, feeling alone, even though they were surrounded by people. The connection that ran through their hands was electrifying, and he couldn’t help but smile whenever they touched.

Somewhere, deep inside, he knew that their entire relationship was fake, a facade, meaningless. He knew that she didn't love him back, would never love him back.

But he also knew he wouldn't love anyone ever again as much as he loved her. And so, when the first camera clicked he acted on impulse. Just as they were arriving at the car, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.

She was shocked, the sudden force of smooth lips on her own keeping her from reacting for half a second.

But then she kissed him back, wrapping her hands around his waist and tightening her grip.

Her bags slid to her wrists as she gripped his shirt. And even though she could see the camera flashes from wandering paparazzi, the sure catalyst of the surprise kiss, she lost herself in her imagination.

She chose to believe that this show of affection was him finally showing his love. She dreamed that he had decided to kiss her on the street because he wanted to, not because of the paps, not because this was his job.

After what felt like hours but was really seconds, he broke away from her, smiled apologetically, and followed her into the car.

And her heart broke at his face, because she knew it meant he felt guilt and regret about the kiss, washing out the hope that had filled her heart for a moment.

The car drove away, away from the cameras and the shops and the scene of the crime. It drove away with it's victims, two stunned individuals sitting with their hands folded in their laps and thinking the same thing.

If only they loved me back.