The First Encounter

My senior year was a dreary time. I was lost in the chasm between highschool student and young adult. I was leary of the responsibilities which I knew loomed ahead of me. Most importantly, I was afraid to let go of everything I had ever known.  However, that was the year I met him--the one I had dreamt of for so long.

 Ever since I was a little girl, I envisioned the day I would meet my special someone.The day he would no longer be a blurred image inside my mind.  He would be: charming, funny, handsome, strong, brave, cunning, ect. The list of idyllic traits was practically endless. I wanted Mr. Perfect  and I wanted him fast! Above all,  I promised myself two things-- 1.) He would not be in the military, because I did not want to be without him for long periods of time and 2.) I would not wait until college to find him, because I did not want to be another statistic. I wanted to prove young love was possible.  

Well, twenty-four boyfriends and countless unrequited romantic endeavors later, I found him. However, it was too late for the highschool sweetheart I had dreamt of. Instead, I had to settle for a near miss my senior year. His name was Brent. He was the typical friend of a friend's friend.

In November of 2008, I rode with a dear friend and her boyfriend to their friend's house. The three of us walked through the back gate and entered a room with little decoration. Gathered around two televisions and various game systems was a group of boys, a tomboy, and a cat.

Being shy, I decided to go for the cat, which,  perhaps was not the wisest choice. The cat clawed me and turned out less friendly than the brown-haired young man seated nearby. He smiled at me and warned me that such behavior was, 'Kitty's way of playing.' Then, he challenged me to a video game. Unfortunately, it was a shooter game. I explained my lack of skill, but was ignored. He, the tomboy, and I teamed up for a game. Still, the moment I moved my character in front of his, he shot me.

" You killed me!", I exclaimed, my voice bitter with accusation.

" It wasn't me!", he replied with a charmingly sly grin.

I said nothing more. How could I? I was hooked!

I began to inspect him from head to toe. His eyes dark and deep and his hair a mass of straight chestnut locks. His fingers long and graceful like a pianist's. His skin ghostly pale, and his body tall and lean. His lazy eye was a small detractor but not enough to dismiss either the intelligence or the beauty of the whole man.

To my astonishment, he addressed me by name before I left.  My friend pointed out how sharp he was to remember my name after only hearing it once. I agreed. There was no formal goodbye. I told the entire group how nice it had been to meet them. However, while there were at least five guys present, I had only learned the name of one: Brent.