Primary Attraction (contest)

I suppose I was attracted to him physically, at first. It's difficult to be attracted to anything else when you're only seeing him from behind, and twenty feet away. His walk was slightly agitated without being threatening, and something in the way he rolled his shoulders and threw constant glances behind him told me he was itching to turn back. I don't know why that sticks in my mind, I suppose it gave him a vulnerable sort of confidence, which I liked.1

He cut across the road and disappeared into a drive. I took little notice of which one it was, and continued for a few more yards before turning right into my friend's garden. There was a figure at the door, broad shoulders squared, hood cast back, and hands fiddling agitatedly with a zip on his pocket.2

Cheesey as it sounds, I felt an odd hiccup in my chest as my heart stopped for a second. I slowed my pace, hoping that my friend would answer the door and let him in so that I wouldn't have to stand awkwardly at his side.3

She didn't. Typical.4

He still reminds me of how clumsily I tried to be inconspicuous at his side. Though I complain when he teases me, we both know that I like it. It means I always get one of his warm, enveloping hugs.5

The first time I heard his voice, it was beautiful. Deep and softly welcoming. He introduced himself, and guessed at who I was from what friends had told him. At the time, light from the house highlighted his strong, Italian features, making his tanned skin glow, and his dark eyes glisten.6

I never expected to fall in love so fast.7

There is something still in his voice that reminds me why it was so easy for him to sweep me off my feet that night. Though we spoke very little, the very sound of his voice told me every word was meant for me. There was, and still is, effortless openness in his body language, and every gesture could have been mistaken for an invitation for a hug. 8

Everything I liked in him that night, I love in him now. He's expressive and has a vibrant, cutely-arrogant character, which I glimpsed only a little of the night I first met him. A little was enough for me to know I liked it.9

I'd never had the feeling where everything I did reminded me of him, but after seeing him that night it was a struggle to keep him out of my head. I suppose that was when I really started to appreciate him mentally. I had experienced his intelligent humour only briefly, but I found myself remembering everything he said and chuckling quietly whenever I was alone.10

He was so eager to make himself known to me. I was used to people who kept everything bottled up, but apparently this was foreign to him. The stories he told me of his childhood often brought me close to tears, and I blushed when he confessed that he hadn't been so honest with anyone in a long time. 11

His honesty was refreshing, and it built an immense trust in him that I never expected to put into another person. He was patient, and kind, and every time I looked into his rich, hazel eyes I found myself falling closer and closer to love. 12

The physical attraction to him grew as I became more confident around him. I would place my hands under his shirt when we hugged in the cold, and feel the soft contours of his back. I would squeeze his broad shoulders from behind when he didn't know I was there, in an effort to surprise him and make him laugh. I love feeling his muscles tense under my hands. I rarely find him in a position to do it now, though, as he is so much taller than me it is an effort to reach his shoulders.13

I still find myself sitting and admiring him, as though he's some unattainable, gorgeous man I stare at from across a classroom, or a train. Then I remember that I've already attained him, and everything I love about him rushes into memory. I remember how understanding he is, and how patient he has been with me. I remember how his voice sounded the first time he spoke to me, and how it sounds every time he says he loves me. Most importantly, I remember how lucky I am.14