The simple upward turn of the lips.
It always starts with a smile, whether anyone is aware of it or not.
Before long, there's a laugh. A laugh and a smile. Then a blush.
The blush is what gets you.
And before you know it, you're fucked.
Because love is a tricky beast.
Love likes to bash you over the head with a tire iron when you least expect it. Love wants nothing more than to pistol whip you into oblivion and leave you bleeding in the gutter, wanting more.
Because love is a sick, twisted bitch.
And you wouldn't have her any other way.
But it always starts with a smile.