...you would meet him on a tropical vacation. He would be native to the area, and given that English is not his first language, he could get away with saying sweet and borderline sappy lines that his American counterparts would never dare to try on you. At the sight of him, your breath would get caught in your chest, sending a tingling through your core. As his leg brushed against yours under the table at dinner, you'd easily become drunk on his alluring nature, quickly throwing your "no sex before love" rule to the wind. Waking up in his perfectly tanned embrace, you wouldn't have a single regret about breaking your own rules (so much so that you'd break them again, twice, before breakfast). At the end of the week, as you prepare to depart and return to the real world, you are sure to steal one lass kiss, passionate enough to make anyone within a one-hundred yard radius blush wildly as they are unable to look away. But parting is not such sweet sorrow, as you are not the kind of girl who can tolerate a man doting over you incessantly for more than one romanticized week in the islands at a time.
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