I was never the type of girl who conformed to the idea of needing to be in a relationship. I never had a need for the hearts and flowers. Sure, I liked a few boys every now and again, but they always fizzled out the same, boring way.
Then there was you.
You, with your blond hair and blue eyes. You with your black pickup truck playing everything from Keith Urban to Young Thug. You with your sweet smile, and soft touch. I never craved to be wanted by anyone but you.
Day Two was pure. It was innocent. It was a crush in its purest form. There were no awkward silences, no lustful touching. Just laughing and talking. We sat in the window seat at a restaurant and learned about each other’s lives. I learned your mom’s name, where your dad worked, that you had a brother you never talk to.
We walked around the park in the dim light from the street lamps, and everything in the entire world seemed to stand still. The earth could have stopped spinning, but we wouldn’t have noticed.
On your way to take me home, you pretended to swerve a little, not enough to hurt me, but just enough to scare me, so you could take my hand and tell me I would be fine; I could trust you.
You dropped me off at my garage door, without even a kiss, and sped home to text me and tell what a wonderful time you had with me. You were miles away, but even still, you could make me blush.
If I had been as smart as I liked to think I was, I would have ran that day. Fearlessly and fast. I would have never looked back.
I never had a need for hearts and flowers, but you, you made me want them.