Gabe
When we get upstairs, I expect angry glares and spiteful comments. I wouldn’t be surprised if she rejected me. I have no right to ask for her hand. We’re on the top floor and she pulls me into her room.
She closes the door and locks it behind me. She walks over and sits on her bed, pulling her legs up to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them.
Instead of anger, I see pain. I walk over and sit next to her. I brush the loose strands of hair off of her face and put them behind her ear.
I’ve been with a lot of women but she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her cheekbones are perfectly defined, her lips are soft and plump. Her nose is small and symmetrical. Her black hair is short and frames her face perfectly. She’s tiny, but her little body has curves that would make a priest blush.
She’s is the picture of perfection and all I want to do is cherish her, mark her, love her. I don’t know if I will have her in my life after today.
