Short story on international love (tw: corny)

[mu****]

You came striding through the arrivals hall - focused, energetic, bouncing your towering frame sideways with every step, like you owned the world. She was waiting for you in white leg warmers and trainers, embroidered shorts and a lacy top. Her makeup was immaculate; she´d started her skincare routine four hours earlier.

Nobody could´ve told she had been surviving on sugar water since the night before, because her stomach felt like a tangled skein. She had gotten 5 hours of sleep, after frenetically polishing her E34 and praying to God that no dove should take a **** on it, at least for the following 24 hours.

All the way to the airport she was gassy, kept feeling an itch on the back of her neck, almost crashed twice, and had to wipe the sweat off with napkins before getting out of the car. In case you saw her, she strutted like a 90s model all the way to arrivals, but you were barely getting your luggage off the plane and waiting in line to exit. She stood in the hall facing the customs exit, nervously lifting her heels up and down, looking everywhere, and kind of dreading the moment she had to spot you among the crowd.

The ample airport windows let in the warmest light. The sky was bright turquoise blue, the air conditioning was perfect, the tiles were polished, and there were few enough people that the place didn´t feel stifling.

"Will I be cool enough? Will I look tough enough? Am I thinking too much?" Yes, she was.

"Being able to handle awkwardness is the key to not being awkward"... easier said than done - you were already moving through the crowd. That head hovering over everyone else was definitely you. She couldn´t help but admire you, drool internally over you. How had she pulled you?... She had no idea. So cool, with your glasses, trunks, polo shirt that highlighted your pecs. She had told you she´d be wearing white, and as you approached, you pulled down your sunglasses and saw her.

She was detected.

You smiled at her, briefly inspecting her. It was the first time you had ever seen her, since you had agreed to this crazy idea of meeting her without knowing what she looked like.

She was struck. She let her guard down, and smiled warmly, holding her hands behind her back and leaning forward in the girliest fashion. She didn´t realize how non - dominant she was acting, but neither did you.

It didn´t matter how many times she had silenced you, objectified you, called you a sick dog that needed discipline, taunted you with threats of branding, tenderly ***d your sex, or presented herself as an authority figure. She was absolutely in love.

And so were you.

[buddy_love1312]

👏🏽💕