Mad Love

Stephanie

My heart almost stopped the first time I saw her. Everything about her was perfect; her skin, her smile, the way she walked with such an ease it made everyone around her look like wind up toys. I loved her instantly. I stood, frozen, in the middle of the sidewalk, as a sea of people rushed around me, completely ignorant of the mesmerizing creation that moved among their midst. I gazed at her, my mouth hanging open, barely comprehending anything else beyond this flawless woman, until a large, balding man slammed into me from behind sending me to the pavement. My sunglasses came flying off and landed at Her feet. The sea of people continued of flow around me as she picked them up and walked over to me. I stared up in wonder, the sun sat behind her head letting me see only a silhouette, like something out of a film, but I could tell that she was smiling sheepishly at me. Her mouth was moving but I didn't register the words, I as far too busy drinking in every single detail about her.

"I. . .uh. . .," I muttered unintelligently.

"Here," she smiled down at me, offering a hand. I took it, noticing how soft her hands were and that mine were sweaty and clammy. Damn. That's not attractive at all. She helped my back to my feet, allowing me to get a proper look. She was absolutely radiant, about 5' 7" with legs that just went on for miles. Her eyes were a startling malachite, her dirty blonde hair spilled down to her impossibly thin waist. There was no way that this utter goddess could exist. Her realm was photoshop and the minds of hormonally charged teenagers, not the real world. She was far too pure, far too precious.

"Are you ok?" I barely even heard her. Her voice was that of an angel, I didn't deserve to be able to comprehend it.

"I. . . yeah. Yeah, thanks. I'm Jason. Jason Drake, by the way."

"Stephanie Morris." She smiled sweetly. I realized that I still hadn't let go of her hand, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away. She was like a supernova. Burning hotter than anything else in the universe. I was transfixed and I knew. Oh, yes. I knew that I must have her. She'd be the best one yet.

As charming as humanly possible, I grinned "So, Stephanie Morris. Is there any chance you're free this evening?"

She blushed at this, pulling her hand away and looking at her feet. Like she'd never been asked out before. An interesting tactic, but I saw right through her facade. If she said yes right away, I might think her slutty. Easy. That is not befitting a goddess. After an agonizingly long ten seconds she said yes, and scrawled her number in looping, calligraphic writing on the back of my hand. I thinked her, still managing to ooze charm and charisma and told her I'd text her around seven to get her address and I would pick her up at eight.

And then we went out to dinner where I learned that Stephanie was an absolutely shitty person. She was racist, and homophobic and didn't like Star Wars. It broke my heart that someone so hot could be so horrendous. People like her are the reason love is dead.