Three Skipped Heart Beats

Division 1

You may be wondering, Why the hell does it say Division 1? A synonym for chapter is division, and it makes total sense.  Chapters are similar to divisions in a book.  (Test me, I looked this all up in the theasaurus a few seconds ago.)  There you go again, wondering why I didn't simply just write "Chapter" then.  Well the answer is simple.  All books are divided into chapter.  So let me let you in on a teeny secret.  This book isn't like the others.  Just like this boy I'm about to tell you about.  Unlike any other.

~

con·trast

verb

gerund or present participle: contrasting

ˈkänˌtrast,kənˈtrast/

differ strikingly.

~

Walking into a room, the first thing you notice are not what the people are wearing, or their genders.  But whether or not their eyes are on you.  You notice whether the majority look away or if anyone at all is turned towards you.  Eyes.  We focus on the eyes.

Funny thing was, I didn't really need to focus on his eyes.  They were already standing out.  No, I don't mean they were popping out of his head or anything like that.  As cool as that sounds, this isn't that kind of book.  But instead, they were strikingly..beautiful.  Not the color, no.  They are dark brown, just as practically everyone who lives here.  The way they curved at the edges and reflected the glittering smile on his face, I could feel my entire body falling for him.  And for the first time in a long time, I didn't deny it.

~

His name is Anthony Hu.  I suppose it isn't that special, exotic or whatnot.  But you have to admit, Anthony Hu has a little ring to it.  He's pretty tall for our age, 5'11 and a 1/2.  Everyone forgets the half (even him.)  He possesses this amazing hair, or I could just be a boy hair fanatic.  It's light and fluffy, a little dry, but adorable nonetheless.   In the sun, it's a coppery red, with a tint of gold in it.  It reminds me of leaves in the fall.  But sometimes it looks dark brown or jet black.  I'm honestly in love with his hair, and question whether I only love him for it sometimes.  (Probably not.) 

He's pale.  Very pale.  Maybe not as white as marble, but pretty darn close.  I really like his skin, along with every part of him.  His fair tone makes it seems as if he radiates, or glows.  It adds on to the way he walks.  It's nearly impossible to miss him.  There's a bit of oomph in his walk, as though he knows where he's going and what he's doing.  It's the kind of walk that makes you wonder where this magnificent person had originated.  Though it's not why I love him.  I love him because everyone believes he's so sure about himself, but in actuality, he's fragile and vulnerable.  Like a giant stuffed teddy bear.  

And his hands.  Cannot forget them.  Long, slender fingers with squared pink nails.  When he cups my small, rough, and grotesque hands in his large ones, I feel like the entire world enveloped me, in a good way.  Like the way you feel as though you have been embraced by the sun when you step out of a cold room into the sunlight.  His thumb always rubs the back of my hand and it makes me forget what I wanted to say.  Who knew forgetting what you wanted to say could be the best emotion in the world? 

~

I would tell you everything I ever found out about him, but that wouldn't be a nice thing to do without his consent.  I mean, I'm sure he would be okay if I told you that his favorite colors are black and white, and he has a really charming obsession over suits, ties, and gentlemanly things.  Not to mention James Bond movies and a slow devotion towards the Harry Potter series now.  But everything else is ours to keep and to savor.  And I like the thought of that.  That we have something only the two of us can reach, and remember.

But in this book, I suppose I have to give you something of ours.  Something that's great enough to be put into words and into this social medium, but not too great as to tear apart the seams of our relationship. 

I'll be handing you the story of us.