(This is from Finn's point of view and serves as a flashback chapter)
I tap my fingers nervously against the falsely wooden table inside of an extremely trendy coffee spot while y/n tells a story about the restaurant that used to function in this location before it shut down.
I stopped listening halfway through which probably isn't the best of ideas on only the fourth date... but my mind is helplessly in shambles over one possible proposition.
On the third date we decided to confirm our relationship. Some would say that on top of us being quite young, a confirmation of labels on the third date is a recipe for disaster. But the deed is done and I do not in any way shape or form regret my decision.
I don't really hear her voice as I'm looking at her right now. I see her lips move and her facial expressions as well as the way that her head tilts and her hands express her emotions further within her storytelling, but I'm so captivated by her beauty and such incredible personality that I just don't hear the words.
I almost don't need to. Her body and expressions tell the story itself quite well. But again, such impeccable observations only come about due to the fact that my mind is utterly, ridiculously, distracted.
Not because of her beauty, not because of her mediocrely interesting story, but because of something so silly and childish. For some strange reason, I so badly wish to take a photo of her. Not while she knows it's being taken, of course. The best of photos are of beautiful people in their natural doings. And I want that photo of her.
My fingers now tap against the denim fabric on the left pocket of my jeans that hold my cell phone. I graze my thumb over the outline of the camera lens before I finally decide to take it out. I nod my head while looking at y/n to reassure her that I am in fact "listening" to her story. I'm also quite impressed as to how long she's been talking aloud.
After about two entire minutes of not hearing any words come out of her mouth, I finally hear some.
"Is everything okay, Finn?"
I have found the perfect opportunity.
"Uh, yeah. I just got a really important text message. Do you mind if I answer it? I don't want to be rude..."
Her eyes flutter and she shakes her head, smiling.
"I don't mind at all! Go on ahead."
Instead of texting, I open up my camera app and catch the perfect shot. She's looking out the window, her reflection visible in the most picturesque way possible and a small smile formed on her perfect lips.
I have never seen such a beautiful human.
Instead of keeping the photo in my camera roll like a creepy lying idiot I decide to launch my Instagram and post the photo.
I caption it with a simple, "Her." It's perfect. She's perfect.
I tag her account in the photo and for some reason overthink where to place the tag. I could place it on her face, but her neck seems like a better place to put it. Then again, she may view that as too sensual for only been dating a short while.
So I decided to go with the safe route. I tagged her account on the small coffee cup in front of her. As I finish posting the photo, I look up at her and say, "Check your Instagram."
She looks at me with this sense of curiosity before opening her phone, the brightest, most beautiful smile dancing across her lips and to the side of her cheeks that were now flushed pink from blushing.
It turns out that she's simple too, because this was her response:
"You."
