As he pulls me in closer, I can’t help but notice how well we fit together, how perfectly we mold even though we’re opposites in every other way. I’m disorganized. He’s a clean freak. I’m a romantic. He’s a cynic. I’m an extrovert. He’s the dictionary definition of a recluse. I want my future to involve love and family. He’s adamant about spending the rest of his days alone. But here, with him holding me, we don’t feel all that different.
