It was just one more night. One of those nights she stood there, sleepless in the dark. One perfect night to dream away, until time came when she stood up and turned on the light. That was the time. That time she stood before that huge blank paper sheet, hoping inspiration would come at any moment. It was a stormy night, and her mind was spinning off axis with images of him.
Oh, him. Those warm (and at the same time, cold) blue eyes, that blond hair screaming "don't care", that smile. She could go on and on, from those amazing eyes, right down to what went beneath that Jack Skellington t-shirt and the perfectly fitted jeans (and that was such a mouth-watering vision). He was, alone, the reason for that stupid silly lack of sleep. She kept thinking about him, about every detail - the eyes, the smile, the body. And every time she was left breathless.
Every single day he drove to work on his Toyota, parked the car and got to work, in the same place she did. He walked, with that "don't notice me" look on his face, and still managed to leave every girl there sighing with the pleasure of that view. And the fact that he was absolutely self aware of that was something she hated. Yet, he kept messing with her, touching her arm carelessly, kissing her cheek longer than necessary. And that alone got her mind spinning.
Oh, her mind. By now it was spinning with multiple images of both of them, in the back of that car, clothes lost somewhere. She shook her head, and the thoughts went somewhere else. Little did she knew, that naive girl, but his smile alone could make her heart skip a beat. Several of them, acually.
And so it went, right until that moment he caught her alone and stole her a kiss. Or two. Needless to say that night they both ended up on his unmade bed, legs tangled, tired and breathless. And she never needed to dream about that achingly perfect man again.