I wrote this a while ago. It hasn't been edited but I figured I'd share it. Enjoy.

The minute he walked in the door, she knew. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Her heart started to pound in her chest and she lost track of the conversation she was having with a friend. She stared blindly ahead, trying to figure out what to do with the mess of emotions inside her.
It shouldn’t be like this, she thought. We haven’t been together in over three years, he’s dating someone new, I was living with someone. It shouldn’t be like this.
But it was.
They were each other’s first love. He was her first lover. He taught her what it meant to love someone. What it meant to be loved. They grew up, matured, had experiences without the other, but they still had…something. It wasn’t definable. Sure, all of the clichéd phrases popped into her head, "you never stop loving your first love." But was it true? Can you ever stop loving your first love?
I’m sure people do, but can I? she thought to herself. Do I? That’s the more important question. Or is it just that, now that we’ve spent so much time apart, my memory has been altered; have I forgotten the bad, remembered only the good?
She couldn’t turn around, not yet. She had to brace herself to see him; to look into his eyes. Was the spark going to be there? Were her palms going to sweat? Was she going to stutter when she spoke to him for the first time in years?
She took a deep breath, turned around.
There he was. He looked the same, yet different. His eyes met and held hers. She felt the pull, that longing to be held by him, loved by him. It rocked her. She hoped he felt the same. If he didn’t, she would be devastated.
She couldn’t move towards him, her feet were locked to the floor. It was her last grip on life. On life without him. Once she took that step, if she took that step, her life was no longer her own. More, her heart was no longer her own.
She was afraid. She never lost her heart completely to him the first time. But this time was different, this time was it. Everything.
What emotion should come first? Which one should be recognized? Which one should be blocked? Which one should be shut away until she was able to handle it? Which one did she really feel? Which one was real?
She had butterflies in her stomach and her palms were tingling. She had yet to touch him; but she could feel him.
His hands on her, his lips on her lips. She felt him inside her, around her, surrounding her; till she wasn’t whole without him. She felt what was. She felt what could be.
She felt alive.
Scared.
She felt love. And it knocked the breath out of her.