We sit in silence for a few moments. I stare at her, watching the street lights bounce off her high cheekbones. Jemma is stunning, and those obvious things, the beautiful things anyone in their right fucking mind couldn’t miss, of course, I love those, but it’s the other things, her little quirks, her flaws that make her who she—that’s what I can’t get over. There is something so deeply woven into her that I find irresistible. It’s the way she snorts when she fucking laughs. The way her eye twitches when she gets angry. That scar on her knee from where she fell off her bike when we were kids.
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