Living With the Choices We Make (Domestic Violence / Abuse) ✔️

2 - Meeting My Prince Charming

2 - Meeting My Prince Charming 

I remember the day I met Brent like it was yesterday, though it has almost been two years. I was fifteen, just starting my sophomore year at St. Brigid's High School in Chicago. Every morning I got up and took the L-train five stops to downtown where I swung by a Starbucks before school to have breakfast—a mocha and a muffin. Every day the same routine.

One rainy, late September morning, the clouds were thick and heavy, no chance of any sunshine at all. I have always despised that type of weather. Though my skin burns the minute I'm blessed with any ultraviolet beams, I enjoy the warmth and comfort of the sun. My favorites are those winter days with no clouds in the sky, with air so crisp it tingles when I suck in a breath. Add the prickle under my scalp from the chilling air and the weather couldn't get better.

Darting along Michigan Avenue as soon as I stepped off the L-train, I was soaked by the time I entered the coffee shop. A stuffy wall of too many people packed is too small of a space signaled that the usual early morning crowd was buzzing around. I shook my head like a poodle, trying to get the raindrops out of my locks and save at least some of my hairdo, when a snicker in front of me drew heat into my cheeks.

I gazed up from under my eyelashes, ready to scold whoever dared to make fun of me.

The culprit beat me to it. "Maybe try an umbrella next time."

The guy was kind of cute, though in no way what I would have described as outright gorgeous. A couple of inches taller than myself, his chestnut brown hair was unruly and a two-day stubble covered the lower part of his face. Maybe he thought his appearance was cool, but I found it a little scruffy. His nice body made up for it; he was very athletic, with admirable muscles. I suspected he worked out a lot.

Tempted to put him in his place for mocking me, I pouted with attitude. "Well, sir, if you knew anything about Chicago, you'd know that it's also nicknamed the Windy City. You don't get far here with an umbrella."

His sensual lips curved up in this half teasing, half flirtatious smile.

"Sir? That's something you'd call my father. Do I look that old to you?"

"Ancient."

Amusement snuck into his eyes. Cloudy gray with specks of different colors, they pulled me into a mysterious world I wanted to explore. I would later learn that they changed according to the mood he was in. On that day, he was in exceptionally good spirits.

"I just moved here a few months ago and go to DePaul. Since I'm obviously clueless about this town, maybe you could become my tour guide and give me a crash course on its customs."

"Well, rule number one, you don't make fun of girls in coffee shops."

"Even cute ones you're trying to get to know?" His gaze was intense with eyes that had turned two shades darker into a smoky, grayish blue—his seductive look.

More heat burned in my cheeks. Though I felt flattered that he seemed interested in me, I tried to fight the temptation to take this any further. He looked about eighteen and fell outside the parameters of dateable guys. My father would never allow me to go out with someone in college. According to him, they all wanted sex, though he failed to realize that this was also on the minds of most fifteen-year olds.

When his continued smile warmed me up on the inside, I drowned the little voice of caution. "What's your major?"

"Psychology. I'm a freshman and only look old. I'm actually just seventeen."

I twitched under his burning eyes. "And you're already in college?"

"I guess I'm just smart."

Though he threw it out with a little chuckle, it didn't sit well with me. I hated conceited guys. "Well, I've to get to school."