he drew our story

So Christmas happened and Marcus completely destroyed me. Not with jewelry or fancy dinner plans. With a sketchbook.

he drew our story

He handed it to me this morning with that shy smile he gets when he’s nervous about something. “I know you like writing our story,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d like the illustrated version.” Every page is a little drawing from our relationship so far. The napkin portrait from Mitch’s. The playlist he made me (yes, drawn as actual song titles). Our first coffee date. Even the terrible dinner at his parents’ house where I spilled wine on their white tablecloth.

I tried so hard to play it cool. I really did. But he drew the moment I realized I was falling for him – us on his couch, me pretending to hate his music while secretly loving that he cared enough to explain it. How does he remember these things? I gave him a Belle and Sebastian vinyl (fine, his music isn’t completely terrible) and told him Merry Christmas. Then I promptly burst into tears like some kind of romantic comedy disaster.

He’s been paying attention this whole time. To everything. Even the stuff I thought I was hiding. This boy is going to ruin me completely and I’m going to let him.