Three Skipped Heart Beats

Division 2

I suppose you're dying to know how I met this strangely attractive boy that I cannot help but have feelings for.  I know, because I'm dying to tell the story as well.  

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dis·tinct

dəˈstiNG(k)t/

adjective  

recognizably different in nature from something else of a similar type. "the patterns of spoken language are distinct from those of writing"

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I'm not going to lie to you, but I will say I was absolutely not expecting anything that day.  I was wearing a green collared shirt, and white shorts with ugly purple tennis shoes and Puma socks.  My hair was tied up sloppily and my day was extremely average.  Though when I walked into the old room, with dirty spotted floors and cracked ceilings, I felt extremely relaxed.  Maybe because I knew my fingers would touch the metal strings of my violin again, and music would course through my body and replenish the bored, tired air I've felt since the beginning of school.  I expected everything.  I didn't plan for surprises.  But that's what he was, a surprise.  

You could say it was love at first sight.  But that would be incorrect because I didn't see his face first.  When I walked into the room, parked my roller backpack against the wall, and made my way to the seat I would claim mine this year, I saw the back of his head.  The reddish brown fluff of his hair.  I anticipated his cute face.  And, I was not let down.  I caught a glimpse of his face before I sat down and began taking out my violin.  Sad to say, I was unable to play because "former students do not have to audition twice." I had it all planned out and everything.  So there I sat, twiddling my thumbs and feeling stupid as my tennis shoes squeaked a little against the floor.  

I choked up the nerve to ask what he was going to play.  I faced him fully, my entire body turned towards him.  This gave me a perfect view of him.  His lanky arms and legs, the lazy way his hips rested against the chair and the slump of his shoulders as though he was bored. He wore black jeans, which looked skinny, but he later told me they weren't.  Talk about confusing. He wore a long sleeved thin crew neck.  His frame was broad and for a moment I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be in those arms.  He showed me simple-looking music and my inner self sighed deeply.  I hope he plays as well as he looks.  

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Before moving on, let me clarify some things.

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One: He is mine, always, forever, mine.

Two: I know there is a possibility you may fall in love with him, that's okay, just don't confront him about it because you'll have to go through me first.

Three: I'm the most insecure girl you'll ever meet. About anything.

~

Back to the story then.

The first month moved pretty quick, a lot of quick glances and horrible violin playing. (No offense, but he needed some violin lessons, just saying.) We shared quiet moments together and obvious flirting times. His smile warmed my heart every Wednesday I came to the old room and saw him.

Soon enough, I found myself thinking about his laugh and his voice in the halls of my own school. I caught myself smiling several times involuntarily. I didn't think I was able to handle it anymore.

~

It was in October, early October, not really sure the exact day. It was after dinner and I was rereading one of my favorite books of all time: The Selection. It so happened that my friend had lent Anthony the book just before she lent it to me again.

I read and read and read..then I stopped a moment. And stared. There it was, the key that gave me everything I have now and had for those many months after. A bookmark.

Written on it was my name and every little inside joke we shared.

But it wasn't in my handwriting.