It's you again.

Maybe she's old-fashioned,  but she'd say she was traditional. 

I never was one of those little girls who dreamt about being rescued and marrying their sweetheart. Never. Not once. I didn't have a string of on-off romances through my teens, a whirlwind love affair at any point, and yet something in me changed. I can't even recall when I first felt like this, but I can just say that now, at the age of 21, I'm very much a romantic. 

There was a time I'd scoff at my friends receiving cheesy, gushing Valentine's Day cards and teddies  holding heart-shaped cushions. When I'd see a couple kissing in the street and avert my eyes, sighing. I'd come to associate romance with a sickly feeling in the back of my throat, a fakeness to it, a childishness. And then, I met someone. 

I've never ever imagined a future with anyone until I met you. I'd never even entertained a marriage, never mind anything more than that. Overtime, I've become someone my old self wouldn't even recognise, and yet I welcome the changes. I'm a happier person because of you. The romantic side of me has flourished, and not before time. You're the person I now cannot picture my life without. You're part of me, and I'll walk over broken glass before I let you go. 

You've changed me, and I welcome those changes. I'm a happier, healthier person. You've made me proud to be who I really am. The romantic side of me is truly alight. Because, why not?! 

There's nothing better than flowers just because they're pretty and he thought she'd like them. A little surprise is cute and thoughtful, and that beats expense hands down. Sometimes, all she want is for him to wake her up and say "I'm taking you out for breakfast" just for the hell of it. She sees a future with him, as he holds the door open for her, grabs the bill, does the chivalrous thing extremely well when he can. She has a lot of admiration for a man who isn't afraid to compliment his girl and show her off. She's always waiting to be whisked off her feet at a moments notice, even if that's for a coffee and some cake. She'll hold your hand like her life depends upon it, smile at you like you're her entire world, and wake up every morning with you dancing in her thoughts. She already knows she will hold on to you before she ever says it aloud. She will make you work for it. She will test you. She will push you to your limits if she thinks you may be the one for her. She'll tell you what she wants, what she loves and what she hates. She'll tell you what she expects from you, even if she never has to say it out loud. She wants to be wooed, she wants to be spoiled, but most of all, she wants to feel loved. 

When I realised.

My phone buzzes throughout my seminar as I carefully make plans from beneath the safety of my desk, as to not look rude or ignorant. We're having a seminar on Eastenders, and how to write for a brief. It drags knowing I've got somewhere to be.

By the time four o'clock strikes, I've already slipped my arms into my coat, closed my notebook and have my bag over my shoulder. It's time to go. 

As I brace the miserable northern weather, thoughts of you dance around in my head. I'll be seeing you soon. I zip my coat up around my neck, shivering, and occasionally glance down at my phone gripped firmly in my hand. It's too cold to text you back just yet. I'll just see you soon. 

Walking through the door of the pub, I realise a cheeky grin has found it's way to my face, and my eyes feel bright and happy. There's an excited feeling in my chest and a new found positivity in my step. And then, I catch sight of you sat at a table in front of me. Your arms folded, your shirt rolled up around your elbows. Your collar unbuttoned slightly and your hair all fuzzy from the rain. You don't see me at first, and yet I watch you, as your eyes are focused down at your phone in yours hands. For a second or two I just study you. Your muscular arms that make me feel like i'm in the safest place in the world when they're wrapped around me. Those eyes I just get lost in every time they meet mine. And then I do. You look up at me and grin genuinely like I've always dreamed of. I never thought anyone could look at me like that. As I walk towards the table and pull out the chair opposite you, I can't suppress my grin. 

'Hello you.' 

And our Cheshire Cat sized grins match up. I sat across the table from you today, and I've never been more sure in my life; there was nowhere else in the world I'd rather have been. 

Nothing like it.

Curled up in bed together, the rain cascading down the window pane fervently. My head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat and strumming along to the familiar, comforting thud with my forefinger. I smile, and you feel my cheek swell, a tell-tale sign. An eyelash strokes your cheek every once in a while and you laugh, or giggle, as it tickles ever so slightly. The way you smell seems to drift onto me for hours after we've left one another, and for that I'm always thankful. A tear to be shed when we part next. Difficulty, if only temporary. I feel like there will be an aching void in my chest for eight days without catching a glimpse of your cheeky grin and deep eyes. I well up just thinking about it. Clutching hands say goodbye, salty tears like the raindrops, cascading, yet, speedier, gloomier, more heartfelt. I hug your pillows, taking in the scent, they smell of you. Familiar, safe, my happy place. The one I'll leave tomorrow night, and return to next Sunday, with brand-spanking new holiday snaps and a topped-up tan! Slap a smile on, Ellie, you're supposed to be excited.

#homesickalready