Walking over to him, I can see he is perched on the moss-covered log, his face illuminated by the moonlight reflected off the lake. My lake. The one I would always escape to in the night. Back when I lived at the edge of a small Californian town, buried in anonymity. The lake sat two miles behind my prison of a house. As soon as my parents started their daily row, I would climb down the stack of firewood kept under my window, law books in hand, and head for the same mossy log and the same moonlit body of water. I would sit there just reading and contemplating. I was convinced that law and academia were the only things that mattered. What else could I rely on? I tried to list the possibilities in my head. There were about four truths I could be satisfied with:
1. The Earth revolves around the sun.
2. Whoever is guilty of murder in the first degree shall be punished by death or by imprisonment for life.
3. Creme brulee is the best dessert in the world.
4. Love is a social construct, a trained behavior.
Some might say that this list was depressing, void of emotion, but to me, it was stable and factual. But now, looking at him on that same log, his gaze meets mine with piercing blue. If I had learned anything from my parents, it was to look both ways before you cross the street, and that there is no such thing as love. And I whole-heartedly believed them, until I met you.
YOU ARE READING
When I Met You
RomanceEmma Allen is a smart quick-witted girl, who has learned only one thing from her parents, "There is no such thing as love." That is until a new serial killer pops up in her small town. Along with a mysterious, shy, and poetic boy at her school. Can...
