Caught Up in Us

My heart skipped ten thousand beats. He was a movie kiss, he was the name above the title. He was the one you wanted the heroine to wind up with so badly that your heart ached for her when they weren’t together, then soared when they finally were.

Oh. Sorry. How do you like your coffee then?” I turned away and slid the key into the lock.
He lowered his voice, and spoke in a dark and smoky kind of whisper. “The way they drink it in Paris. Black.”

But when your first love tells you how good it is to see you again, you don’t think at all. You just feel.