He seems perfect. And in some ways he really is. Actually, he's completely perfect. Starting at the crest of his tousled bronze hair all the way down to his expensive brand name shoes his sister insisted he wore. I believed it with my entire being, impossibly. To everyone else I supposed he was perfect and I was a less than favorable add-on. He certainly could have done better. I'm pale, probably just as pale as he is, and painfully average looking. Medium length average dull brown hair. Brown eyes. Not particularly curvy figure. And human. Painfully human. Frustratingly human. And he was—is—a vampire. It sounds insane. I had almost admitted myself in an institution when I even considered what he might be. But it's true. It made him so much more unattainable than he already was. Yet he chose me. For some reason. He tells me I'm beautiful, especially around others, and he's so tender with me—in public. He never makes me feel anything less than human. Which is the problem.
I love him. He's perfect. On paper, at least. Behind the scenes… well, I suppose nothing actually changed. But everything changed when we couldn't be overheard or seen. But it didn't matter. I was made for him and he was made for me. That was all that mattered. It had to be. I couldn't do better than him.