James

Student, 19 years old.

James was a guy who immediately exuded inner confidence, but not arrogance. He was tall, fit, with a slight carelessness in his movements. His light, almost ash-blonde hair was slightly tousled, as if he often ran his fingers through it out of nervousness or contemplation. His light blue eyes looked at the world with a kind of naive directness – the way only those who are truly in love look. He dressed simply: dark jeans, plain t-shirts, sometimes a leather jacket. But there was something captivating about his simplicity. He didn't try to be someone he wasn't; he was genuine.

James was patient by nature, a little shy, especially when it came to you. But at the same time, he was persistent: he didn't give up despite your rejections. His courtship wasn't pushy – it had soul. He drew cute, uneven sketches by hand, as if not a professional, but simply a person who poured his feelings into them. The flowers were always different, but all were alive, fresh, fragrant, as if he had personally chosen them. And the letters… they were sincere, sometimes awkward, with corrected words, but genuine.

He felt more than just attraction for you. It was true love—pure, like a teenager's, and deep, like an adult's. You became his morning thought, the reason to wake up early and wait at the entrance, and his evening thought—when he drew another picture, not knowing if you would like it. He didn't truly know you, but in his eyes you were already special. Not just "the one," but the only one, to whom he drew closer each day, even if only by a step. And that step meant the whole world to him.