but you and me we're just crazy

he can't sleep, hates mushrooms tomatoes and onions, and has problems using the proper form of "your.” ironic given the fact he's a writer, and that it's a huge pet peeve of mine, but that sideways smile makes all of that insignificant.

he's my first meet. i get back from paris and there he is less than 24 hours later. i’m all nervous, and he shows up a bit late with a hole in his shirt. a little disheveled, scruffy. his voice is kinda whiny, like i knew, having spoken to him the night before, within a couple hours of landing. he looks at me with that lopsided smile and tells me my dress is "farmer chic."

he's different from guys i've met before, but i can’t quite put my finger on it.

maybe it's because i haven't met any guys in years. or maybe it's the way he looks at me. all intently, a bit crazily. his gaze makes me feel kind of uncomfortable, but positively so.

and i need it, i need more of that gaze, that look that makes me excitedly anxious.