Poor traditionalist Josh (with his gauged ears and long hair and tattoos) really wanted to wait until I walked down the aisle to see me for the first time. Really really wanted. And it just didn’t work.
So I hid. And the photographer told Josh to get ready for me to come out.
And I peeked out the door.
And he was handsome. So effing handsome.
And there were people standing all around. I didn’t expect the people.
And then I tripped, stepping out of the building. (damn fake Louboutins)
And everyone was watching as I walked up to him.
And all I could do was kiss him. Because I felt so exposed, with flashes clicking and people staring. And his kiss was comforting and warm and protected me from everything around us, from the importance of the day, by wrapping me up in a moment with him.
And I’m sure he murmured something romantic, or a few things romantic. But I don’t remember. I just remember kissing him.
I know. Alright? I know. I promised no mush. Shutup, it’s my blog.