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Score | 269
In Literature, Writing and Blogging • 1 min read •
Until we met
<p><span style="background-color: transparent;">Could I be anymore obvious?</span></p><p><span style="background-color: transparent;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="background-color: transparent;">Pounding heart. Reddened cheeks. Sweaty palms.</span></p><p><br/></p><p>That's how I look when I see him.</p><p><br/></p><p>At least, that's how I think I look.</p><p><br/></p><p>My friends say I'm avoidant. I can't look him in the eyes when he's near. I become cold, nonchalant—almost indifferent—to a guy I'm crazy about.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then they ask me why I like him.</p><p><br/></p><p>Like they can't see why.</p><p><br/></p><p>He's handsome. Intelligent. And intelligent and intelligent...</p><p><br/></p><p>You get the gist.</p><p><br/></p><p>I like intelligent men. Men whose minds keep me on my toes. Men who can pull me into conversations I don't want to end, leaving me with an insight I hadn't considered before.</p><p><br/></p><p>Men whose minds make me curious.</p><p><br/></p><p>But that's not just it with him.</p><p><br/></p><p>We met two years after we actually met.</p><p><br/></p><p>He taught me while I listened from a class of four hundred students.</p><p><br/></p><p>He never saw me.</p><p><br/></p><p>I never saw him.</p><p><br/></p><p>Until I did.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then we met.</p><p><br/></p><p>And suddenly, he wasn't just the man at the front of a room anymore.</p><p><br/></p><p>I saw him.</p><p><br/></p><p>I felt him.</p><p><br/></p><p>Did he see me?</p><p><br/></p><p>He didn't.</p><p><br/></p><p>He didn't.</p><p><br/></p><p>He didn't.</p>

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A simple story from a simple girl
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