Addicted

He's addicted to... messy curls, bright blue eyes, the way the neck of her baggy blue sweater always slips down her left shoulder when she gestures too abruptly (the way she always does when she’s lecturing him on leaving crumbs). And those lips.

He’s addicted to her.

And he’s fairly certain that he’d better stop using the word “addicting” before he can admit to himself that he really means “love.”

He isn’t sure what she loves (if anything) about him, but she seems to want him as much (or nearly) as he wants her, and for now, that’s enough. It’s got to be.