A True Love Story

Girl walks into a bar.

Or a car dealership, whatever. To continue -

The first few rays of the barely-rising sun gleam off her spurs as she steps up to the counter.

"Give me something hard," she says, "I want the strongest thing you've got."

Bartender gulps nervously. "The strongest I've got?" he stammers. "It's barely sun-up. We're serving oatmeal right now and...."

Girl springs across the counter. Bartender finds himself eye-to-eye with the girl, her fingers twisting his collar, the cold mouth of her gun pressed against his head. "I said, I want the strongest thing you got," she says slowly.

"Baby, don't waste your time," comes a voice from the door.

Girl and Bartender snap their faces over to the door, squinting against the sunlight. Girl loosens her grip on Bartender and he slumps to the ground.

"You're gonna tell me what to do?" Girl replies. But she's listening, taking in his silhouette.

"I wouldn't tell you what to do." The figure at the door is back-lit by the sun, but Girl can hear a smile in his voice. He takes a step forward. "But I know what you want," he continues.

"How do you know anything about me?" she asks. He takes another step forward. She swings her arm up, cocking the gun as she aims it at him. "And I'd stay there, if I were you," she advises.

He doesn't even hesitate. He takes another step. "I know what you want, because it describes me perfectly," he says. "I'll give you the moon and stars." He's rugged. His voice slips through pearly-white teeth like honey dripping on the floor.

"What a line," Girl remarks. "Is there a lady in this world who would fall for that?"

"Couldn't say." He takes another step. She's close enough to study the stubble that dots his perfectly cut jaw. "Never had a reason to use it before now," he adds.

"What's the occasion?" she asks.

"Meeting the most perfect girl in the world..." he replies. Her gun clatters to the floor. He slides his hand under her hair, pulling her into his embrace. "...And kissing her," he finishes.

He dips her low. Lips meet. Just outside the saloon, fireworks erupt.

Girl's eyes flutter. "Who are you?" she whispers.

"Lerone," he smiles. "I'm Lerone."

This man and I....we're gonna go far together. 

PS: Is it normal to want to pet your car? And run to the window every hour to make sure he's still there? Or at least to sigh happily and smile at him? Not saying I did those things. Just wondering if that's normal.