I step onto the dock,
guitar in my hand, dreams of exceeding wealth in my mind.
My eyes dart around,
taking in the place I would call home for the next 8 weeks.
And there you are.
Standing with your arms crossed against your chest.
Your teal streaked hair is glistening in the sinlight.
You look like you would rather stick pins in your eyes than stand on that dock for another moment.
Maybe I can change that.
I walk over to you. Our shoulders touch.
Did your spine tingle too?
Did you see me flash you a smile?
I could've sworn I sensed you smile back when I turned around.
But I must've been mistaken.
For all I am is one guy.
A guy with a guitar and heart full of songs waiting to be written.
And now, as I remain standing at your side,
Those songs will be written about you.
About the day I came for a reality show but recieved much more.
About you.
Gwen.