Dear Jessica,

You know, sometimes you infuriate me. Like, make me really, really mad. You're so damn positive. I'm not always sure whether that makes you crazy or just really, really likeable. How can you believe that everyone is good? I mean, have you seen the world? It sucks and so do most people.

I think that's the big difference between you and I. You think that people are good. I don't. Well, except you of course.

When we first met your positivity drove me mad. Like, I wanna scream and shout and punch a hole in the wall mad. I just couldn't understand it (and I still don't if I'm honest).

But now? It makes me smile - sometimes in disbelief, but still a smile. You always see the bright side, even when there really isn't one. You're a liability, Jessica. Remember that time in the parking lot? I was sure we were dead. And Remy? How could you not see that coming a mile away? It's a good thing I'm here to look after you. I like protecting you.

I also have to say, the way you're always singing? It used to infuriate me. Constantly – in the shower, cleaning, making a cup of tea – it was like you couldn't stop. I kinda wished you had an off button so I could get some damn peace. Going to work at the bar with a show tune stuck in my head is not great, Jess. Some days I felt like I was living in a kind of weird musical and any moment some dancers were gonna appear in the loft and start prancing around. Urgh.

But then something weird happened. Without realizing, I began to, well, like it. Crazy, huh?

I guess it started when you were dating Russell and would disappear for days at a time. I'd get up in the morning and head to the kitchen. When I stepped out into the hallway, my ears would prick up, waiting to hear you humming along to some song that I didn't recognise. Instead all I got was silence and it made my stomach dip a little. You weren't there.

The singing and talking and laughing had gone from annoying to comforting and familiar and, well, nice. And I started to realise that I missed your little quirks.

Damn. That I missed you.

You know, at first, I found your mouth annoying; really annoying. Besides singing, it was those dumb voices you made and that sing-songy way you would talk when you were nervous.

Most of all, I hated when you argued with me. Man, you drove me mad! Every word that spilled from your lips would make my blood boil with more rage. Always, always criticizing me – expecting me to be something I wasn't, or thought I couldn't be... At least, not then.

I guess I was so preoccupied with all this it took me awhile to notice the color of your lips – I've never seen such a ripe, blood red. The curve of your cupids bow was difficult to notice when you talked so much. But I did, along with the fullness of your bottom lip; the one you chew on when you're deep in thought.

And you know what? I also began to notice the nice things. The way you encouraged me when I was feeling low. Your belief in me – though I thought you were crazy –was strangely comforting.

Now I realize you just have a weird kind of faith in me (why? I don't deserve it…). And it was one night, after we had fought over my lack of direction in life that it occurred to me. Your mouth, your lips – they were pretty. Sweet, girly, mushy kind of pretty. I could stare all day and not get bored pretty.

Then I got this urge, to taste them. To reach out and cover them with my own. Do you know how hard it was to fight that? It took every ounce of self-restraint. But then I did, and it was better than I could ever have imagined.

Now, I love your lips. The way they kiss mine. Their softness. The way they switch from hot and passionate to sweet and kind in a moment. I never want to stop kissing them.

Okay, I've always wanted to ask: where do you get all those damn pretty dresses? Seriously Jess, I've never known a woman with so many clothes. Being a guy is much easier. I rotate a regular supply of flannel and henleys (heck, they're not even clean most of the time) and I think I look fine.

Sometimes it's like a fairy has puked up a rainbow. There have been days when I have been blinded by the color (yellow clothes should come with a warning early in the morning Jess!). And all those bows? Seriously?

But, I'm going to be straight with you. I hate to admit it – I started to like it. You remind me of a Disney princess: all bright and pretty and surrounded by flowers and stuff. When I'm having a crappy day I like seeing what you're wearing –it cheers me up. Okay, it started with me actually laughing and making a mental bet with myself as to what you would appear in each day. But then, I started to enjoy seeing you step out of your room, smelling all sweet like flowers.

I've never met a girl as, well, girly as you before. And I like it.

I have to tell you - your eyes used to freak me out. They are so damn big. And blue. And round. And gorgeous…

When you're mad they turn this greyish blue – like when the ocean is stormy. It's intense. The way you look at me when you're angry is so true and passionate, it scares me a little.

And then in another moment they change. Soft, kind, pretty eyes. Staring at me like I was something special. A pretty blue, like the flowers you sometimes put in the vase in the kitchen.

I remember the first time I noticed you looking at me when you thought I didn't know. We were on the sofa, you put on some 80's movie that you had begged me to watch with you; it was about some girl who liked pink or something.

Near the end I saw you looking at me. Your eyes were all round and glassy and curious looking. I could tell you were happy because they were colored this pale, watery shade- the color they turned when you talked about school, or baby animals or when you were baking. I watched you out of the corner of my eye, a smile was curving at your lips. Was I making you happy? How?

I felt warm inside and I wanted to smile but then you would have known. So I stayed quiet and let my mind imagine what was going through yours.

So now your eyes are one of my favorite things. The way they smile at me like I'm making you happy (am I?).

I'm rambling aren't I? I'm sorry.

I'll be honest. I'm still confused. You snuck up on me and all those little things I used to hate have become things I, um, love. Yes, love. I said it. Damn, can't take that back…

Where did you come from? How did I get so damn lucky to have you in my life?

I guess I'll never know.

But I need you to know all this.

Love,

Nick