Her heart skipped a beat when he walked through the door. She hadn't seen him in awhile. He still gave her goosebumps and the butterflies fluttered away in the pit of her stomach.
"Oh no, it's happening again" she thought to herself.
Her eyes met his for a brief second as he made his way toward her.
"God, he's perfect," she almost said.
She watched him play, she watched him run. Only one word could describe him. Perfect. Perfection is exactly what he is.
She was grieving a loss but with him in the room, every ounce of sadness evaporated in an instant.
She doesn't believe in love, so it can't be love. She doesn't believe in trust, and so it most definitely can't be love.
Infatuations last for months but the butterflies for him have been there for a year or more.
She's glad he came back, she's glad he's around. She missed him so, but he'll never know.
She's willing to put it all on the line, to get hurt, broken, ruined. She's tired of holding back.
She's just glad he's here now. She's glad he came back.
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