Adonis [rather old; fragment]

She was enraptured. She launched herself up the stairs two, three at a time. Barely touching the floor. Oblivious to her backpack, its weight, twelve pounds, thirteen, ten? She was aware of shapes moving around her. Adonis. Sweet Adonis. Wavy black hair, chilly marble skin, dark eyes—she’d seen him.

Contain it! Can’t! She needed someone to tell; too much to keep inside—growing, impossibly soft feeling-- freshmen moving so slowly up the stairs! She slammed herself violently against the wall. Don’t care who sees. Nothing outside of-- she only knew him by sight, from the hallways, yet she felt she intuitively understood his innocent heart, his refined mind, his guileless intentions, his sweet demeanor. Such beauty—such beauty—

He was originally from Eastern Europe; his parents had immigrated for science careers. Other people didn’t see what she did, something she knew too well. Xenophobia? Blindness? Or clear sight? She didn’t particularly care about other people, though… to her, he was a fairy-tale knight, tall and rather thin, but his sinewy arms and beautiful broad shoulders suggesting a latent physical power, a suggestion that kept her awake sometimes… such a fine-boned face, deep brown eyes, delicate, pale pink mouth, white skin, black curls. Yes, to the others he was quiet, unobtrusive, someone to simply overlook, but to her he was aesthetic ideals incarnate, and she preferred to use the elegant word “lover” in her thoughts, even if it was technically untrue…