we were always like this-

"Hey. You coming?" That's what you would say, when your patience for my eternal primping started to thin. I always thought it was romantic, the way your features crinkled up when you were annoyed, but your words were always laced with laughter. You knew I would instantly pop out of the bathroom with, say, only my right eye ringed in mascara-

you always noticed things like that, how I would always start from the right because I was left-handed and thought it was awkward to do my left so I went for the easy one first-

"You're so gay," I would tell you, when you quietly slip your hand over my nervous fist, but you'd always detect those minute tremors in the wake of my voice and grasp my hand tighter. Our hands were never intertwined, but that was okay, because you'd always hold on to me anyways-

you always stood on the side facing the incessant flow of traffic, even though I'd get annoyed when you kept switching sides-

"Hmm, so chivalrous," I'd mock you when you opened my door for me when we got out of the car. You'd grin and reply with your right hand on your heart, "At your service, ma'am," ending with a forty-five degree bow. You'd then hold out your hand like a valet of some wealthy lady, and escort me in that silly fashion the whole way-

but I'd stay in my seat till you opened the door anyway-

We'd be dining like the most respectable people in the whole of England, tucked away in a respectable corner of, say, Pizza Hut. I'd always give you my peppers, and you'd admonish me for being a picky kid, but you'd take them anyway-

I only do it when you're there to crinkle your face and act annoyed-

When we were done, you'd always foot the bill. I'd fight you and play dirty but the money always came out of your own pocket, with your silly gent manners. We'd continue playing the part of lady and valet, and you'd be my chauffer all the way home-

sometimes I wish we were less formal-

"Bye," I'd say when we got out of the car. This time I was the blushing damsel giving hesitant goodbyes. You'd give this soft smile, with the corners of your mouth turned up ever so subtly and your eyes a bit glossy-

and you were my prince-

You'd say goodbye too. You'd wait till I turned around before you started the engine, and you'd stay on my front lawn till I opened the door. I'd say, "Don't get your head bashed in by a lamp post," and you'd say, "Sweet dreams, sleep tight." And then I'd turn reluctantly and close the door, watching your car drive away through the peephole-

hoping that you'd reverse the car and carry me into my bedroom-

I'd keep waiting for the next meeting. It was hard establishing contact: we were from inversed social circles - you were a doctor climbing higher and higher upon the ladder, and I was just a small fry in accounting. There was absolutely no chance for us to meet in our daily routine, it was a miracle how we even met-

sometimes I think we're not meant for each other-

I remember every miniscule detail though. I was holding my mocha latte piping hot from Starbucks and was hurrying across the road, and you nearly ran me over in that sleek black car of yours. You braked in time, of course, but in my fright my drink had jumped all over my crisp white blouse; and I was willing you not to notice my favourite fluorescent yellow bra with a pink giraffe on it, but it was impossible not to anyway-

the jacket you covered me with had an intoxicating scent about it-

You called me an idiot for not watching where I was going, but I was too busy reveling in your forest green orbs. And you smirked when you noticed my glazed eyes and lazy smile, and your smirk grew bigger when I refocused myself and blushed to the tips of my ears-

maybe I would throw myself in front of a car again just to meet someone like you-

We swapped numbers. Even though you told me this was strictly professional, in case something cropped up with my 'nervous state after a brush with death', the texts kept bouncing back and forth anyway-

you were cute like that-

Now we're going for these private 'consultations' every other day, and it's just such a sinful pleasure to be held in your gentle embrace (even though you had this lean muscled look about you). And you're probably going to blush when you read this-

haha, even though you'd deny it vehemently-

It's awkward for me to do this. I'm a girl, you know. Isn't it supposed to be a guy doing this sort of thing? Anyway, I'm mustering every inch of courage in my body to just hand this letter to you-

because you are more precious than anything in my life, and that includes my self-esteem and pride-

I really don't want to watch you reading this, but I have to, I have to keep going till you're done. I need to hear your reply, you know, and I don't want to make this any harder by running away-

you would be glancing up at me and grinning about now-

Okay, here goes.

I love you, I love you more than I can say-

Marry me?


yo peeps :D

haven't updated for ages, this inspiration was so random. anyway, I saw this idea being passed around (credits to milkbottle), so...

Hey Modus,

How're you doing? Glad to see a new story! I think it's really great.

Keep up the good work :)

Your logical friend,

Your name.

So I would really love it if you gave me a review (I mean honestly, peeps here pick their stories by the number of reviews on it).

If you're braindead and tired of cliche messages, use my template! heehee ;D

Modus