God, she’s perfect. Nadya blows my mind every time I see her. She has gorgeous brown hair that cascades down her back and pale, angelic skin. I think I love her eyes the most, though. When she looks at me with those hazel-green eyes, my heart skips a beat. She also has the cutest accent I’ve ever heard.
Me? I’m a poor slob who needs to shave.

I know what guys think of her. Several of my “buddies” told me what they thought of her, which led to a couple of fist-fights and one trip to the hospital. I still have the scar.

I don’t know what Nadya sees in me. I don’t know why she stays with me. She’s too good for me. Nadya could have any guy in the world, but she stays with me. She even loves my guitar playing, for some reason. She always sings along with a huge smile on her face. I don’t deserve her, but I’m so happy I have her.

I remember one night, after a Doctor Who marathon, she fell asleep with her head on my chest and my arm wrapped around her. I looked down at her and thanked God for sending her to me.