The Transporter

It doesn't come on the radio. I just remember the lyrics. Better Than Ezra's "Fit."

"Oh how you fit me. Oh how you do. You know that you only. I'm head over you. Oh how it hit me. I'm caught up and bruised. Despite all these cynical lies, I finally found a piece to fit in my life."

And instantly? I'm lying in his bed. Covered only by a sheet. Looking at him. Looking into his big, beautiful, brown eyes. I've yet to meet anyone with those chocolate eyes. I stare. Not realizing just yet that I am in love with him. I run my fingers down his forearm. Legs intertwined. Feeling his lips meet mine.

"I was adrift out on my own. You came along and carried me home. 'Cause you are a spark. A distant headlight. I can't stop my eyes from keeping you insight."

We arrive at dinner. Italian. Baked ziti. The best baked ziti. He asks if he can sit next to me. "You've been inside me. I don't believe I'll mind if you sit next to me." He blushes. And moves. We people watch. Neither of us is hungry. My hair smells of Amber Romance. He smells of Burberry. He places his arm around my shoulder. I lean in. Comfortable. Home.

"'Cause I'm made long. I've faded some, look at what I've become. And my eyes were drawn 'til you came along. The world is quite confused. You are my only absolute."

And now? I realize I have romanticized him. The relationship. I pick at the pieces that seem to be worth chewing on. I push the bad pieces aside. Because those pieces? Don't fit.