I wanted to write a novel about him. I wanted to write about his eyes, the way they were so interesting not because they were bright blue or emerald green, but the way it had something unexplainable that leaves me breathless.
I wanted to write about his laugh, the way his eyes wrinkles and nose crunches. It was so beautiful. I wanted to write about his hands the way it was always so warm, that he never cared to wear gloves even in winter. I wanted to write about the faded blue denim jacket he always wore, how sexy it looked against his skin. I wanted to write about his messy hair and his strong jaw which was shadowed with the stubbles. God, he is so beautiful. I don’t want to stop looking at him.