Boy Meets Girl

His breath tasted of smoke and hers of strawberries.
She had starved herself for many days and no longer needed anything but the dry burn of vodka. He ate everyone out of house and home, but only desired her taste: it was of honey and a specific scent that only belonged to her.
There were moments when she laughed freely as he tickled  her and moments where his laugh burst out of his chest when she said unexpected things. She knew how to drive him crazy and he knew how to drive her away.
Sometimes all she wanted was to tell him that she loved him even though he told her all the time, but she knew she meant it and he wasn't all the way there.
They would lay in bed, her head resting on his chest and he would sleep while she dreamed laying awake. She would giggle to wake him up when she got bored of making shapes on the ceiling and sometimes they'd tell each other stories about one another. When she was happiest, she'd lift her legs and point her toes to the ceiling in a playful manner. He would hold her 'round the waist and tell her how cute her nose and chin were. There was nothing the matter except sometimes their bodies would overheat each other and they'd have to shift around.
Sometimes he would run up the stairs like a little boy expecting early Christmas gifts and she would coolly trail behind him, unzipping her boots and untying her waist belt. All she ached for was to be kissed and sometimes, when they were at their closest, they still desired to be even closer.
She was in love with him.