Top Voted Romance Articles

Our daily jog together. At least I like to think of it as our jog. It’s not like we actually run together, but in close proximity in separate universes. It is hard to remember the days when we did not run together. My elliptical jogs right... (more »)

He is your world. He is the one you would live and die for. You love the color of his skin – different from yours – the perfect balance between light and dark, day and night. You love the way he tells you he loves you. He says he'll marry you... (more »)

I didn't want to like him. He was just so charming. This might sound like every other love story, and it may be, but it may not. If you don't read on, you'll never know. My name is Emily Brown, which I've always been quite happy... (more »)

I want to like coffee for you. I hate coffee. I hate the taste, I hate the smell, I hate the way people get artificially addicted to it, like it's a trend. People joke about needing coffee to function. It's stupid until you see them... (more »)

“What event triggered the Cuban missile crisis?” My study buddy looked from his paper to me with those eyes – the eyes of Dorian Gray. “I guess Princeton Review doesn't see the irony of putting ‘trigger' and ‘missile crisis' in the... (more »)

Today, I made a boy out of pillows and old clothes to look like you. I told him that I liked his eyes, that they were a spectacular shade of blue. He did not ­compliment me back. I read him my poetry. He did not offer me a ­critique or wild... (more »)

“I don't like to wear socks to bed. I feel like my toes are suffocating.” “I've been wearing the same flowered shirt every Wednesday for the past three months and no one has said anything about it yet.” “My mom collects miniature... (more »)

I told him my name was Dahlia. He let it roll off his tongue. Dahlia, he said, that's beautiful. I thought, that's why I chose it, but I held my tongue. We were in the back of the library, somewhere between the psychology section and science,... (more »)

It’s staring at me again, the foul little temptress. It sits on the desk, cheap, smirking as if to say, “Yeah, your man spends more time with me, and he complains about you all day. What you gonna do about it?” It thinks it’s so much... (more »)

One-eighth of me, or maybe a tenth, is acutely aware of the approximately 22 inches that separate your shoulder and mine. One casual shift later, I'm four inches closer. I can always just blame it on your magnetic force pulling me in. One or... (more »)