It had been five months since I last saw his face in front of mine. I hadn’t touched his pillow soft coily curls in so long but my fingers ached to run through them. Being merely minutes away from feeling his soft skin sent chills and excitement through all of my veins. It was a rush I was all too familiar with. I paced quickly, stopping every few seconds to stretch up on the tip of my toes to look over the heads crowding the busy airport. I fidgeted with the tips of my blonde hair trying to find something else to occupy my mind other than the thought of him. With all the pacing my clumsiness surfaced and I dropped my purse. I reached to the floor quickly to retrieve it, afraid to miss him and that's when I heard him. 

I stood wobbly at the knees from my nerves going haywire. I locked eyes with him and ran to his arms. He held me in an embrace that felt so strong and safe. A week. You will only have him for a week, my self sabotaging brain taunted me. I pulled him closer and squeezed tighter to savor our every moment and push past my conscience. He pulled away and looked down at me with those glorious green eyes he always comforted me with. A lady working the Delta counter behind us gave an awful judge-mental look that showed, “They are too young to have a love like that,” just like what everyone else says. But I look at him and he knows we can conquer this type of love. And we will do it together.