There he is. I've been waiting for him.

It has become something of a routine for me. I wake up, take a quick shower, grab my purse and come here to wait for him. He doesn't come by everyday, but I do, just in the hopes to see him. Everyday when I wake up, I think "today could be the day" and get up from bed with a spring in my step.

Oh, my poor reader, you must be so confused. Let me explain.

My name is Amelia. I guess it's safe to say you don't know me. I'm new around here. I'm your average 29 year old girl. Well, a bit on the short side... and maybe not as thin either.

I'm a writer. To some people that's code for unemployed lazyass person. That's not true. I do work. A lot. I just haven't had my breakthrough romance published yet... or written. You see, I'm going through a very bad writer's block at the moment. Sometimes I worry I'm just a bad writer. Or maybe I'm just an unemployed lazyass.

I earn my living *ha* as a freelance writer. You know, I write articles for money. It's not the ideal but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Oh yes, you must be asking yourself who's the man I was blabbing about earlier (I'm sorry, I tend to get sidetracked). I don't know his name. Or what he does for a living. All I know is he has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. When I saw them for the first time I was a goner. And I don't even like blue eyes! Also, the man is very tall. I'd say about a foot taller than me. I'm 5'2", so he should be around 6'2" maybe 6'3".

I remember the first time I saw him. I had just moved here and found this cozy little café not a block away from my apartment. I just had to enter. I'm a writer, I love cafés. I ordered some chocolate, grabbed my ever present little notebook and started writing. Nothing important, just some ideas.

I don't know how much time passed, since I tend to get lost in my own little world when I'm writing, (and when I'm not writing) but next thing I know I'm hearing this wonderful gruff voice asking for a coffee. I just had to look at the owner of said voice.

I started my perusal at his feet. They were clad in trainers. Going up, I saw long legs in blue jeans. Oh, a man after my own heart. Higher still, and I saw the cutest little butt ever! Have mercy! I also noticed a cane, but thought it was for fashion purposes only, because I could not see anything wrong with him thus far.

My eyes then landed on his hands. His beautiful, strong, big hands. I love hands! And as my little eyes went higher, things only seemed to get better. He had some graphic tshirt under a leather motorcycle *gasp* jacket. Helmet hanging from the crook of his arm.

I must tell you something - little nerdy, painfully shy, chubby, glasses wearing me just can't resist a gruffy motorcycle man. Yep, there goes my pristine image.

So, up his broad chest and shoulders I went. Oh, beauuuuuutiful neck! Facial hair! *internal squeak* He had a stubble. Thin lips, masculine nose and... the most incredible blue eyes I'd ever seen! Blue eyes that were staring right into my hazel ones.

Yes, he caught me staring. *Oops* And he was looking right at me. Scratch that. He was glaring at me. Uh oh.

He didn't say a word. He just glared at me. Then turned away, effectively ignoring me. I just used that time to look at his hair (how pathetic am I?). Nice brown hair with some white in it. I remember thinking he must be in his early 40s. Too soon, he had his coffee in hand and was leaving... with a limp. Well, that explained the cane.

And I was left staring after his ridiculously yummy butt.

After that, I only saw him a handful of times. He didn't see me though. I got the impression he didn't like me (he caught me ogling him, guess he might have a point) so I've been sitting in the back of the café, trying to be as much a part of the décor as I possibly can. Whenever I come to this little café, waiting and hoping to see him, I feel like a stalker, so I might as well act like one. At least in the café.

And once again, he's here. My heart soars and butterflies play in my stomach.

I take a deep breath and let out a sigh, getting the bittersweet sensation of being in love with someone I don't really know.

But in the end, can we really know someone when we love them?