That's what I'm waiting for.
I think it is a matter of preference, really.
But I am curious.
There they are, exchanging the briefest of giggles, long looks of love, and words that make up an idle conversation, with each other. She leans gently against his shoulder, feeling all safe and warm, I presume; he generously scoops her a spoonful of salad from his plate.
In their own little world of their making in a fast food restaurant, blissfully oblivious to the distant shopping crowd, the humdrum workings from behind the counter, and the overeager toddler from a nearby table and his exasperated mother.
Would you prefer to be by her side: to smell the lovely flowers in her hair, feel her chest rise and fall with every breath, and have that smooth, warm skin against yours…
Or would you prefer to be seated opposite him: to look into those deep, all-knowing dark brown eyes, be captivated by his bewitching smile, and melt at the sight of those irresistible dimples of his?