Love, Aristotle

chapter 1

Aristotle

Everything was not perfect right now. I had an hour until my dance recital and Damon wasn't answering my texts.

Despite this, I shot him another one, asking if he was still coming.

He was definitely busy. Even though he promised he'd show. He never missed my performances. But this time, I didn't know.

We celebrated our three year anniversary last month.

I'm happy, I think.

Things are changing between us. I didn't know what but it was something. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad, yet.

But if him not showing up gave any indication, deep down I thought, maybe something's wrong.

He's been acting weird lately and again, I wasn't sure if it was a different or a distant kind.

I stopped myself before my thoughts could wander down that path.

I love him, I really do and I'd like to think that we're perfect for each other.

But he's him, brooding, grumpy and rude. I'm me, somewhat the opposite.

And that's the thing, he was like that with everyone yet with me, he was different.

I used to think it was cute, his sociopathic tendencies. Though now, it's taking a toll on certain aspects of my life.

For instance, my parents don't like him. At all. Neither do my friends.

They speak of him like he's a monster. A person with no heart. When they were embarrassingly wrong.

They didn't know him like I did.

I love him so I guess I'm blinded to whatever flaws he has, that's what they told me. But they're wrong, again. I saw his flaws. The difference is, I never let that define him. He was more than that. He was everything to me.

Damon. The love of my life. And here I am, frustrated with him but smiling at I thought of him.

Three years ago, I caught him staring at me in class—it's happened multiple times. It was a silent type of attraction. I'd sit at the back, he'd sit two rows in front of me.

During class, I'd stare at him, thinking he'd never notice. He was the type, didn't like attention but he had mine, since the start. He was quiet, an observer yet never going unnoticed, he was handsome, deadly handsome. Tattoos, cigarettes and cars were his thing.

Books, music and dance, those were mine.

So one day, when I found myself staring at him too long, I looked away and buried myself in my book. Not knowing that he was watching me.

It became a thing, I'd look up, my heart would stop as his eyes gazed into mine. Eye contact. Lots of eye contact.

But we never spoke. Until, this one particular day in September, homecoming was coming up that year—we were freshmen. I was too busy reading while waking to my locker, listening to music that I didn't realizing he was standing next to mine.

And I didn't notice until he cleared his throat, which made me look up at him. He was very tall, compared to my five six figure.

I smiled, with a frown as I was slightly confused. While inside, I was freaking out.

He looked down to his shoes and took in a deep breath then met my gaze, "Hey."

I perked up at the sound of his voice. My smile widened, "Hi?"

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, which made me nervous. "Aristotle right?"

He knows my name.