he is it.

Driving home from Greg’s on Sunday felt like it took forever, like the road had stretched while I was in Kansas City. My eyes were heavy from such little sleep, and my heart was full with what I can only explain as calm. It was a great weekend, full of good conversation, laughs, and sweet sweet moments.

Greg is one of those guys that doesn’t have to try to impress me because being who he is impresses me enough. He makes me look at things differently. He is patient. He makes me comfortable. He turns the mundane things to fun. Mostly, he makes me feel good about myself.

I realized on that drive home that somewhere along the line before him, I had forgotten how to feel sexy and wanted, like it slipped from my brain when my heart closed up once and for all, the last time I had given up on love.

But when a man looks at a woman that way, with want so desperately apparent in his blue eyes, she can’t deny that it lights a little spark, still hidden in a place that she never knew saved things like that.

And he does look at me that way. And the sparks go crazy. And there’s no way I can’t say I don’t love it.

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