Madly, Deeply: First Sight

First Sight

THE SKY WAS WARM AND buttery against Annaleigh’s skin as she floated across the lake. She could see the golden glow of the late afternoon through her eyelids, and the passing darkness of shadows as black birds circled above.

Summer was her favorite time of the year. She reveled in spending hours outside under the hot sun that rewarded her with kisses of freckles over the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

Her mother hated how she played outside, and begged her time and again to devote her free summers to etiquette lessons, like her sisters had. As a child, Annaleigh did just that. She parroted her proper siblings in fine dresses and lace gloves. She went for walks through parks under gauzy parasols, but she always felt like a duckling trailing after beautiful swans. She was out of place when she was stitched up so tight; the lake was where she felt free.

No corsets restricted her movement when she was in her bathing suit—though her mother had tried several times to find a way to fit one under the fabric. And the hem of the skirt was the shortest Annaleigh was ever allowed to wear! It was so odd seeing her knees and ankles as she ran down the length of the road to find the path through the woods to the lake. Her joy over being able to run freely without the cumbersome weight of the dresses she normally wore amused her father to no end. He always said she was the closest he’d ever come to having a son.

“Have fun,” he’d say as she fled to the lake.

“Do not let any boys see you like this, Annaleigh!” her mother called. “If you would please...”

Annaleigh nearly laughed at the idea. No boy would bother looking at her, no matter how little she were wearing. At thirteen, she had none of the elegant beauty her sisters had been blessed with. She was as straight as an ironing board and all limbs—knobby knees on too-long legs and skinny arms that reached far past her waist. She still hadn’t fully grown into her ears, and her eyes were as wide as her mother’s cameo pins. The only thing she truly found beautiful about herself was her hair, that was the same pale shade of gold her grandmother had when she was a child.

She stretched in the water, pointing her toes and reaching her arms above her. The spread of her hair was gentle over the water, and her fingers got tangled in the waves of blond. Her hair was certainly not something beautiful when she was swimming. Perhaps underwater it was pretty, fanned out like the blurry streaks of a star, but as soon as she surfaced, it became a limp, knotted disaster.

The water rippled around her and she sighed in contentment. The lake was always so peaceful. None of the other children her age bothered the trek through the woods; swimming in the lake or sitting on the shore wasn’t all that exciting to them. But it wasn’t about excitement for Annaleigh. It was about thinking in solitude.

“Don’t fall asleep in there,” came a voice.

It startled her so severely that she let out a curse and tried to sit up as if she were on dry land. She ended up sinking a little below the water, and when she surfaced, her hair was plastered over her eyes. She pushed it back off her forehead and looked around.

There, on the end of the dock, was a boy. His pants were cuffed up to his knees and he had his feet stuck in the water. A pair of shoes sat next to him, and he had his shirt off.

He was paler than she was, with hair so dark she almost thought she had been thrown into a fairytale and that the ravens above had transformed into a boy. He did look quite like a bird when he watched her like that—so quizzical and mischievous. The boy smiled at her, and Annaleigh had the urge to sink back into the lake to hide her mortifying blush.

“You’ve been swimming so long, I’m surprised you haven’t shriveled away to nothing,” said the boy.

“Excuse me?” Annaleigh said, drawing her eyebrows low. She kept her hands in the water to hide the wrinkled proof of the hours she’d laid out under the sun in the lake. Who was this boy?