This is my idea of romantic. This is what I'd like for my story to be...
We spent a long weekend together, meeting through a group of mutual friends. We had an immediate, simple chemistry that trumped how little we had in common. I remember thinking the lack of conversation could have been uncomfortable if it hadn’t been so crystalline, so unbelievably clear to me that this was the most pleasant kind of temporary: a stopgap on the way to other people, places, things. We spent the entire weekend together. He was reading this pint size book for one of his classes. As he read, he underlined a passage and said it had reminded him of me. He read it out loud, shifting his eyes up to find mine and parse my response. I took the book and devoured the petite read that same afternoon. The alternate theories of time and the dreamlike quality to each vignette was romantic. I almost confused my love for the book with feelings for this relative stranger. Almost. The weekend ended and he gave me the book to keep. It remains on my bookshelf 10 years later, underlined in his hand and mine, read and reread.
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