((Thank you for sticking with me. I am trying to fix the formatting issues. Well, without further ado-))
F is for Facts
Facts. He lived for cold, hard facts.
Facts he could wrap his head around. Facts he could use. Facts he could understand. Facts he could grasp. None of this nonsense of emotions, and feelings. No flipp flopping hormones or sickening sentimentality that could and often would change.
No, he was a man of facts and science, so when the illogical often loud and irresponsible, reckless and driven by her heart Mai came crashing into his life he had no idea what to make of it. So he did what he always did when presented with a puzzle.
He studied it in an attempt to figure out the facts, never mind the way his pulse raced when she worse that pink skirt or how his finger would tingle from the contact they made with hers over his afternoon tea.
No he needed to focus on the facts. Sadly, the harder he looked the less sense the whole puzzle made. Mai would rail at him for not saying thank you but then she'd bring him tea again in an hour unbidden. She'd bit her lip when they were alone when she usually had no trouble voicing her thoughts. He had no idea how to process these facts.
Until the day she tripped and fell into his arms. Literally. That was the day that all facts and sense fled from his mind. When she fell and he caught her all he could think about was how nice she smelled and how soft she felt. He was confused until he realized that these two were facts about Mai. Facts he could work with.
As was the fact that he was in love with her.