I watch his profile silently from my peripheral, no longer paying attention to the words on the pages of the book I had been reading. Smooth, even skin covers the strong bone structure of his face. The lines of his high cheekbones and sharp jaw stand in stark contrast to the smooth planes of the rest of his face.  The soft light from the bedside tables on either side of the bed lights these areas of his face, adding definition.

 

Brown eyes read the pages with ease, flickering across the lines steadily. His eye lids are dropped slightly, allowing the distinctly Asian shape of his eyes to stand out more than usual. The lids cover a little less than half of his mahogany irises, and what color I can see in them is darkened by the shade of his dark lashes.

 

His sharp nose protrudes from his face and the lines travel naturally down to his Cupid's bow and bring me to his lips. Reddish hued lips meet one another in a relaxed line. As always, they are slightly pursed.

 

How I wish for the feel of those lips on mine. I feel my pulse begin to quicken at the thought. He continues to read, and I pull my book closer to my face in an attempt to hide my growing blush. I cannot understand how any man can be this handsome.

 

I let out what I hope is a quiet breath, afraid not only to disturb his reading but also of giving away my lack of it. I glance at him quickly, my breath catching when I see him seeing me from the corner of his eye. A smile touches his lips and reveals a handful of his white teeth. His eyes crinkle slightly at the outer corners in a way only Asian eyes can.

 

He is amused that he caught me. I, on the other hand, am mortified.

 

I attempt to read my book, but my mind makes no sense of the words as I furiously scan over them. I can feel his eyes boring holes in me, watching me as intently as I had he, but with more amusement in how utterly uncomfortable he is making me.

 

His eyes wander my face, taking in my sickly pale skin, my frizzy and broken blonde hair.  They travel over my splotchily-blushing cheeks, speckled with freckles I hate. My nose, which sticks out more than I wished. My lips, thin and always chapped and dry. The breakout on my forehead, the one I had tried desperately to cover earlier. I take a breath, and he takes a moment to observe my crooked and coffee-stained teeth.

 

Unable to stand the heat of his gaze anymore, my eyes meet his in a dance of murky, muddied green and brilliant and beautiful cocoa.

 

I feel the warmth of his fingers as the tips dance across my uneven skin, but our eyes remain on each other. His, beautifully exotic and Asian, mine, hideously wide and utterly Caucasian.

 

I see the smile fade from the corners of his eyes, the crinkles disappearing into effortlessly smooth skin once more. His eyes show concern and study my own. His smile falters. I feel the wetness on his thumb as it slides under my eye before he asks.

 

"Why are you crying?" He wonders quietly, eyes studying my face as my bottom lip trembles. Our books lay forgotten on the bed.

 

"How can someone so beautiful want someone so ugly?" I croak, my voice shaking.

 

He sighs and closes his eyes. A smile stretches across his perfect face, and my tears come faster. He mocks me with his perfection.

 

Suddenly those shining brown orbs are revealed again, and he looks into my eyes. His hands touch my face, the warmth of his palms on my cheeks coaxing my gaze to remain on him.

 

"I wonder the same thing every day I spend in your beautiful light," he whispers. "How is it that such a stunning woman can stay by the side of such a hideous man?"

 

More tears come suddenly, blurring his image. I feel warmth on my lips; I kiss him back with as much passion as I can muster, trying my best to project my thoughts and emotions into the kiss--disbelief, insecurity, self-doubt, thankfulness, and an impossible love.

 

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I believe in love, but I also believe that in any relationship, there is one who settles and one who cannot believe their luck. One partner is overjoyed with the other, completely taken, while the other is left to settle for what they get in their partner. Only when the two both feel the other has settled for less than they deserve is it truly love.  It is a feeling that must be reciprocated.