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My stomach is in knots. Terrible, horrible knots that make me feel as if I need to vomit; like I have too much stomach acid. Almost like I had an ulcer, eating away at my stomach lining. Well... That's a lovely picture, isn't it? Oh well. I don't care. You need to know how I feel. If I'm going to write a book about this, I might as well let you into the deepest corners of my mind, right?
But, like I was saying, my stomach. You know that feeling. Like you're about to see someone that you hadn't seen in years. A close friend, or a relative. Or like you'd gotten in trouble for doing something horrible. Two way different circumstances, the same physical outcome. Absolutely sickening, whether it's from grief, or from happiness.
I can feel myself shaking slightly, and I look over to the man driving. Long, straight black hair, coal black eyes, tan skin... He looked exactly like the pictures. It drove me wild. I always knew he was a beautiful person. Absolutely gorgeous, inside and out. And it seemed that it was true. So far.
His eyes were on the road, and my eyes were on him for at least half a minute, before he senses that I'm staring at him, and he looks over to me with a small smile. I look away like a shy child, my cheeks turning red. Like I had been staring at a stranger, and they had caught me. Which, unfortunately, was true. Mostly.
I stare out of the passenger window of the rented car for a moment, looking out over luscious green fields of corn, and my mouth waters for about the sixth time since being at the airport. Of course, the other five times, my mouth had been watering over something else. But that was to be expected. Seeing a beautiful man walking out from the gate of an arrived plane, knowing that he was there for you, for you and no one else, could have that effect. Seeing that twinkle in his eyes, the affectionate smile on his lips. Yes. Someone would be crazy if they hadn't been effected by something like that.
One hand reaches up to nervously fiddle with my shaggy black hair. I run my fingers through it over and over in one small section, and, like always, it has a soothing effect on me. All of a sudden, I feel another hand slide its' fingers up through my hair, near the base of my neck, and I feel tired all of a sudden as the hand started to massage. I look over to Michael and smile softly. He's still staring at the road as if what he was doing meant nothing.
I watch him for a second before I let my head loll down, and he continues his loving touches. He always knew that that was a weak area with me. My hair. And my ears. My neck as well, but not as much so.
A part of me feels surprised, almost a bit taken aback. Why was he touching me? I didn't know him... But really, I do. I know him so much. Better than most people, I'd hope. All I wanted was to feel him, touch him, have him feel me and touch me. But then again, it made me even more nervous. We were sharing the same car, with no one else... We were going to share the same hotel room. And, if things went well, this wouldn't be the last time. Maybe later on, we would share an apartment... College classes... Maybe even... Dare I say it? A life.
But, I have to keep this in mind... No matter what my hopes and dreams are. No matter what I wish to happen... I need to slow myself down. Why, you ask? Well...
I have never met this man before.
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