First There Was You

Prologue: Elle

Beginnings... 

July 29, 2004

Loon Call Island, Lake Rosseau, Muskoka

"Show me, Elle. If you're so sure of yourself, show me, then."

Smiling at the hint of exasperation in his voice, likely because I've only been half paying attention. But honestly, it's much more interesting to think about the feel of his chest under my head. I've been nodding, offering non-committal sounds of interest for the past ten minutes as I fantasize about... possibilities.

Now, caught red-handed, I blush and turn my attention back to the sky.

The evening breeze tickles my skin as I lay on my back, staring up at the stars. My eyes search for the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, counting the stars between them, finding my way to the North Star. I could show you pretty much any constellation in the northern sky.

I could show you all the constellations you'd ever want to see from my boathouse roof; each one etched into my memory because he's the one who showed them to me.

Pointing to each of the ones he asked me to find, I wait for his response. Goosebumps blossom over my skin when his warm hand closes over my wrist. He guides my arm gently, showing me another constellation.

"See there? The long tail of stars between the Dippers? It curves all the way down towards Cepheus, then back up, like a lasso. That's Draco."

"You've already taught me that one. Don't you remember?" See? I have been paying attention.

His laugh surprises me. It's a sound I so rarely hear, and my heart soars. "I was just checking to see if you've been paying attention at all."

I smile, wondering if he knows the true direction of my thoughts. I cherish these quiet moments with him, where it's just the two of us. The peace that settles over him when no one else is watching. This edgy, restless, wild boy is so different when he's with me, and I wish more people could see him the way I do.

It's getting harder to find these moments with him, though, our friends constantly surrounding us. We've hidden this side of our slowly shifting relationship from the world this summer.

I turn my head, resting my cheek on his shoulder to peek up into his face. His eyes are partially closed, hooded, but he has a sweet, soft smile on his face as he watches me.

He is so beautiful. I know he'd hate to be called that, but there's simply no other word.

His dark brown hair waves carelessly across his forehead. His eyes are a deep caramel brown, like the bourbon that sits on my dad's bar. His cheekbones are high, his jawline sharp and strong. He has a sweet freckle directly above and to the right of his top lip. I often find myself wanting to trace my finger over it, or kiss it, but I haven't dared try either of those things. His smile is just a little crooked, tilting more to one side than the other. It's almost like he hasn't quite managed a full smile in a long time, and the muscles are rusty.

He smiles more readily with me, and when I get him laughing, he relaxes, a dimple flashing to the left of his mouth in those rare moments. His laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world. His smile is made all the more striking by his straight white teeth and full lips. Lips that are currently only inches away from my face.

I smile up at him before glancing away, shyly. I've been dying for him to kiss me with those beautiful lips for weeks.

I've never been kissed before. Fifteen years old, well as of midnight tonight anyway, and my first kiss still eludes me. I dream about it all the time. I dream it will be him. I need it to be. I might just explode in the waiting for it, the wanting of it.