The little bell on the door jangled, and I looked up from my steaming cup of coffee. The most beautiful man I had ever seen in my entire life had just walked in. Beautiful didn't even come close to describing him. He had sparkling brown eyes, and his hair was styled in a little British mohawk, which reminded me, strangely enough, of Morrissey. He shook the snow from his hair and walked up to the counter, sitting down two seats away from me. I quickly took my eyes off of him and tried to put them back in their sockets, focusing my attention on the book I was reading for my American Literature class. I glanced over out of the corner of my eye to see him give the girl working the coffee shop a smile as he ordered a vanilla latte. He removed his jacket and draped it carefully on the back of the chair as his eyes scanned the room. I quickly looked back down at my book, which I had unconsciously closed while I appreciated the beautiful man.

"'The Great Gatsby', huh?" he asked. I looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"What? Oh, yeah, it's for my American Literature class. I've read it a million times, but I figured I could use another read-through before class tomorrow." Was this really happening? Was I really talking to this guy?

"It's a good book." He said simply.

"Yeah…All of Fitzgerald's books are good." I replied with a smile on my face. "He's probably my favorite American author. Really, that's why I'm taking American Lit. It's just an excuse to read lots of Fitzgerald."

The girl working - Lorin, as her name tag proclaimed - handed the guy his coffee. He thanked her and moved over so that he was sitting next to me. "What college do you go to?"

"University of Tulsa. Majoring in Psychology. They have one of the best Psychology departments in the state." This guy must think I'm a moron. Why did my father bless me with the gift of gab?

"I wish I had gone to college." He said wistfully. "It must be fun. Meeting new people, learning new stuff, getting to choose your own courses."

"You never went to college?" I asked. He seemed like a bookworm-y sort of guy. Why wouldn't he go to college?

"Never got the chance to. By the time I finally ended up staying here for longer than three months, I was already 25."

"It's never too late to go to college, though. I mean, there are lots of older people in some of my classes. There's a mother of three in my biology lab." I chuckled.

He laughed, a laugh that told you he was genuinely amused. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Isaac."

"Echo. Is me." I stammered. What was I, 14? Two seconds in the presence of an attractive man and I turn into a teenager again. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He sipped at his coffee, stirring it with a straw. "How long have you been in college?"

"I'm a junior. I took a year off after graduating high school, though, so I'm a year older than most of the juniors. I'm 22. Or at least I will be in a couple of weeks."

We found ourselves talking until Lorin - coffee girl, remember? - asked us to leave, since we had been in there for hours on end. We curled up in our winter coats and took a walk through a park that was close by, listening to the snow crunch under our feet and talking about Christmas with our families. He had six siblings - three brothers and three sisters. His parents had been high school sweethearts. They were really into the whole family thing. I found it incredibly charming that he was so into his family. The look of love and care on his face when he talked about them was astounding.

"What about you? Your family? Christmas plans and such?" he asked me.

I sighed. "My family…Kind of sucks. The only reason I'm really majoring in psychology is because my parents want me to. My older brother is the wonderful one of the family, my younger sister is the troublemaker, and I'm just kind of there. I never really caused any trouble, but I never did anything outstanding, either. I get really tired of trying to please my parents. It's like I'm not even living my own life anymore."

Isaac looked at me with genuine pity in his eyes. He wasn't afraid to let his emotions show. One look in his eyes and you could read his mind. I really liked that about him. He seemed so down-to-earth, so friendly, the kind of guy you bring home to Mom. "Why do you let your parents do that, then? Do what makes you happy, otherwise you might end up miserable for the rest of your life." I stopped walking and looked up at him. I watched him breathe, little clouds of air coming from his mouth. "You have to do more with your life than just live it."