She is his book tease; his fast-talking, optimistic, coffee addicted, town princess. The amor of his life. She’s everything he isn’t but everything he wants.
He’s her monosyllabic, ice cream is better in cones, Hemingway wannabe, metallica listening bad boy. The amor of her life.
She can’t help herself around him. No matter how much she wants to believe it isn’t true, she needs him.
Words, old dead white guys, margin writing, late night flirting over coffee and literature brought them together. But, at eighteen, they stood worlds apart.
estrella crossed lovers, maybe. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, probably. Rick and Ilsa, of course.
They weren’t supposed to be together. She wanted nothing más to hate him, and as fate would have it, something always kept them apart.
Rory and Jess are that long, over-arching amor story, where everything is perfect and new for about as long as it takes Jess to finish a cigarette.
But as soon as those embers hit the ground, something happens to pull them apart.
There is that saying, if tu amor something, let it go, but people seem to forget the segundo part, the important part to the saying which is for if they return, they were ALWAYS yours.
If tu are meant to be together, the story is never over, for it will resume when you’re ready, when time is finally on your side.
The course of true amor isn’t allowed to run smooth because amor is madness, blindness, confusion, desire;
it’s so many complicated emotions that make it the most joyous and painful experience you’ll ever have.
He made her cry, he left her waiting por the phone, never dicho goodbye. He dicho ‘I amor you’ and ran away.
She ran away after besar him, played with his emotions, estola his corazón without giving hers, dicho ‘no,’ kissed him and ran away, again.
They hurt each other. And they do it again. And again. But ‘it is what it is’ because even when they disappoint each other, it’s worth it, because tu only have this kind of amor once.
Before everything, they are friends, always. He knows her better than anyone else, stiffens when he thinks it’s her, hated himself for hurting her. Hated himself for losing her.
She just wants to be around him, to lie on the bridge and tease him about Hemingway, to smell the mixture of smoke and leather that is his signature scent.
más than anything, they just want to be around each other.
It’s hard to understand that concept until tu feel it, the jerking in your stomach, the brightening of your eyes, the ridiculous way tu only smile for them.
It’s hard to grasp that when someone lies about bringing tu a care package, it’s the most romantic thing in the world.
It’s hard to believe in amor until tu meet someone who knows what tu mean when tu say Dodger.
It’s hard to fall in amor until tu meet that person who can name The pistolas of Brixton just por the lyrics. It’s hard to realize what is perfect until he says 22.8 miles.
But when tu find that, it’s like having a stroke. Everything changes. All colores pale in comparison to that person.
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Amazing, right?