Puppy love

There is a word that describes the way I feel about him. I struggle to find it.

I walk straight in and clock him. He is sitting on a bar stool, fully focussed on his laptop. The two pretty waitresses smile at me invitingly at me. I beam at them happily but I don't waste time.

I walk up straight to him and without saying much I fall straight into his arms. I relax fully, quietly, my face on his shoulder. He rocks me in his arms first then starts dancing with me, his hips gently pushing mine into the beat of the music. I sway with him, inhale his scent, melt into his body and then let go first. I look up and realise that I can't see him properly. My eyes are hazy and my head is spinning. We both take a step back, the magnetic pull between us easing comfortably, yet, for some reason we are left holding hands like a pair of kids.

We chat animatedly about the party I want him to organise for me, I am fully focused on him. I no longer care about who's looking, who I am due to impress. I am looking into his greyish blue eyes and that's what I care about right at this moment. Just being with him. I tell him why it matters that things go well. 

"Don't worry. You just relax. I'll take care of everything". And I believe him.

When I leave, I say 'Let's catch up, me and you because I adore you, you know?' Before I start feeling remotely self-conscious, he grabs me, pulls me closer and kisses me gently on the lips.

I walk away and then realise that I am a little bit in love with him. I haven't fucked him. We haven't even had a date. And none of it matters. No, bollocks. I am in love with him, like I have never been before. I realise I have nothing to prove. I am no longer the sex kitten, not the cool cat, not the sulky princess, the feisty sub that likes a good fight, not even the standard issue charmer that I like to morph into to prove a point. I am just me. And that is something I will have to think about a bit more.