The Infatuation Phase.

The Boat.

Her POV

He looked at me today. 

Since this morning, I had managed to get a bruise on my forehead, arm and butt, break my glasses, get clawed by a $70 manicure, and lose all my lunch money. I had been picked on quite often by the spoiled students of this filthy rich school, but I was quiet about it. I never had told on anyone, and just packed up and left when it got rough. 

This world has turned to shit, and all you can do is try to live while you still have time. You want to be independent, but you want someone to care about you. You are torn between two thoughts, and it slowly rips you apart day by day. But all you can do is turn and smile to the world that you want to leave. 

In the depths of this hell of a world is my safe haven. Along a rigged path filled with wet stones and webbed trees, is a small lake that carries a white-painted boat. With oars dried out, and the edges of the boat chipped, it can carry me away to a place that is truly beautiful. The crickets and ripples of the lake murmur songs in hush tones far away from the loud and busy city. The song lulled me to sleep, and as the night broke out, the lake mirrored the sky that had turned into billions of tiny lights. I weeped along with the willow trees that surrounded the lake.This place was comfort. It was a mother that I never had. 

But there was this boy, and there was something about him that felt safe. He had always been somewhere, and everywhere I looked I would search for him. He had dark waves of hair that I could get lost in, and eyes that were fading in color. They were tired, but they were so beautiful. It was something I noticed about him when we were just in kindergarten. I had told my father, and he had known that there was something peculiar about this boy. I had crushed on him for a while, but then I realized crushes were stupid. My father would tell me otherwise, and I loved him for that. 

I had hope in him. From making sure his little sister had her lunch when he was only in the sixth grade, to secretly tutoring math, he was one hell of a guy that I wish would have noticed me. 

Back at home, my mother was probably sleeping with her new boyfriend and drinking more than her stomach could handle. My father had passed away when I was nine, leaving me with his boat. Inscribed on the side is our last name, the one thing that I will forever share with him with the many memories from Disney to camping out on summer nights. 

My father made this place special, and it was my job to keep it that way. 

His POV

She looked at me today. 

As she walked out of the school, her eyes welled up as she let a sob escape her lips. The fresh cut on her face bled, and the bruises she had turned various shades of purple. It had always been like this at our school. There were too much plastic, and not enough substance. But boy, was she substance. The way her eyes lit up at the thin spines of books, and the way a smile would tug on her smug look made her a type of beautiful that was indescribable. 

Her long eyelashes batted at the titles of books, and her laugh could lighten my entire mood. Her hair fell just past her shoulders, curling softly as it neared the end. Though she stayed under the radar, she shone like a light.

I had never made the effort to approach her. She looked so fragile and precious, that maybe if you touched her, she would fall apart. We had been in the same classes for three years in a row now and the only words we had exchanged had been when we were younger and in the same kindergarten class.

She said, "Merry Christmas!" and I thanked her for the Christmas card with a hand-drawn picture of her and her father. Signed inside the card was her name and a signature from her father. Her mother was never in any of her pictures, and I never questioned why. 

I had watched over her, as creepy as it may seem. I watched her get pushed down a set of stair cases, and I have watched her beautiful hair get pulled down right to the floor. I have seen her get kicked and pulled into a corner. She had still come out alive and brave, like the girl I had seen in kindergarten. 

No matter how hard she got pushed, no matter how hurt she may have been she managed to get up and walk past the past. She moved forward, something everyone struggles to do today. But today had just gone too far. 

She went down the path that lead to the lake, and I had followed her there. As I hid behind the weeping trees, she slowly crept into the boat and pushed off using old oars. I watched her push her way into the lake. She breathed everything in, and looked up. The night had taken over, and the stars had been reflected through her eyes.  

There were so many things on her mind, but she was the only thing on mine. As I sat down, the leaves crunched underneath me. She turned her head, and I stood back up. She maneuvered her boat back onto shore. I suddenly felt so much guilt for interrupting her moment here away from people like me. 

She got out of the boat not-so gracefully, but here we were standing face to face. I approached her to apologize. 

"Hey, I didn't mean to interrupt you here but-" I was suddenly wrapped by her warm embrace. My arms slowly made its way around her, and I held her like this for a while. I didn't mind at all, this was all I ever wanted. As her every breath shuttered, I held onto her tighter. I loosened my grip a bit, thinking I might crush her, but she only gripped on tighter. I never realized that she needed me as much as I needed her. 

We did not let go. As we got up to walk over to the boat, I held her hand. She got in first, but she let me come in. We pushed off the shore and lied down staring up at the sky. I held her frail hand, as she put her arm over my stomach. My breath staggered at this small movement, and she had quickly moved it away. I took her arm back, and I felt so lucky. I had been able to see her widest smile tonight. In this boat,  I made sure that she was not going to fall this time.