I Like Flaws. I Think They Make

How Weird Was It That So Many Bits And Pieces, All Diverse, Could Make Something Whole. Something With Potential. 'perfect.

You're Wrong," I Told Her. "i Lost That Faith A Long Time Ago." She Looked At Me As I Said This, An Expression Of Quiet Understanding On Her Face. "maybe You Didn't, Though," She Said Softly. "lose It, I Mean." "lissa." "no, Just Hear Me Out." She Looked Out At The Road For A Second, Then Back At Me. "maybe, You Just Misplaced It, You Know? It's Been There. But You Just Haven't Been Looking In The Right Spot. Because Lost Means Forever, It's Gone. But Misplaced... That Means It's Still Around, Somewhere. Just Not Where You Thought.

When He First Put His Arms Around Me, It Was Tentative, Like Maybe He Expected I'd Pull Away. When I Didn't, He Moved In Closer, His Hands Smoothing Over My Shoulders, And In My Mind I Saw Myself Retreating A Million Times When People Tried To Do This Same Thing: My Sister Or My Mother, Pulling Back And Into Myself, Tucking Everything Out Of Sight, Where Only I Knew Where To Find It. This Time, Though, I Gave In. I Let Wes Pull Me Against Him, Pressing My Head Against His Chest, Where I Could Feel His Heart Beating, Steady And True.

With Total Strangers, It Had Always Been My Policy To Expect The Worst. Usually They-and Those That You Knew Best, For That Matter-did Not Disappoint.

If What You're Asking Is How I Debated Whether Or Not To Love Her The Answer Is I Didn't. Not At All. It Just Happened. I Didn't Ever Question It; By The Time I Realized What Was Happening, It Was Already Done.