By request, my account of the first time I met J…
(Thanks for the question, C.T.!)
I walked into the room in business attire appropriate for spring in a semi-tropical climate — sleeveless polka-dot sundress, wedges, and my laptop bag (I hate carrying a purse). Ahead of me to my left was a group of people chatting around a conference table.
They were in conversation deep enough that only one of them seemed to notice me walk in. He lifted his eyes to meet mine and it made my stomach flip. He had killer blue-green-aqua-indescribable eyes and a strong, angular jaw. His broad shoulders were relaxed, but he was muscular enough to hint at a fantastic body underneath his pressed button down shirt.
At the precise moment my brain began to process the visual… oh my god, he’s so fucking beautiful… my foot got caught in a carelessly thrown rug and I faltered on my feet.
I didn’t fall, but it might have been more graceful if I had. The mental and physical gymnastics involved in keeping myself relatively upright must have been ridiculous to watch. I can only imagine it looked as if I were walking down a set of stairs, underwater, in a strong current, in slow motion. I’m not exactly graceful, but it was bad, even for me.
After I recovered, I checked to see his expression — had he seen me stumble? His eyes were too focused on the table in front of him and I realized he had forced himself to look away. Even with downcast eyes, I saw a hint of the most beautiful smile play across his face. There was no doubt he saw my tumble, but he had literally averted his eyes to try and save me from embarrassment.
I’m much steadier on my feet around J these days, but those eyes and that incredible sweetness still make my knees weak.