I just want to preface this with the fact that I may not finish this. Right now it's just an attempt. So try not to get too attached. As you can see, it does't even have a title yet. Who knows, it may never develop far enough to gain one. But I'm going to write as much as I can. So with our further adieu, here is my prologue and first chapter. And yes, I am a girl and yes I am writing in perspective of guy.
To see her face was a gift that one was blessed with. It was like looking at an angel in better lightening than one would find in Heaven. All I wanted to do was stare at her all day long. No one was as beautiful as her. The way her nose slightly turned upwards, and the way her eyes shone as she talked about her favourite music or book. She was like that. She had an opinion on everything and was pleased by almost nothing. Except music and books. They were her two staples. You never saw her cute, upturned nose because it was always in a book. On those rare occasions where you would see her nose, you wouldn't see her beautiful grey eyes. Because without a book in her hands, there were ear buds in her ears. And something about the way the music spoke to her, made her close her eyes as if that singer was whispering those words in her ears as a serenade of secret love. Everything about her screamed beautiful and bad for me, but everything in my head screamed stupid and perfect for her. And that's how our love story remains. She's never been good for me, but I've always been good for her. Making us inseparable. Because that part of me that screams stupid, is what keeps me believing in the very untrue fact that I could be with her forever. That first day in the coffee shop, when I first saw this angel, was the day I started on the mission to become hers. And while succeeding, I lost myself. Only to be found again by her. And now, while as in love as I am, something about her still screams bad for me. To tell you exactly how our love is would be wrong. Because I can't read her mind and she can't read mine. So I'll tell you what I can about our love from my side. And this is how it goes.
It was a normal day like any other. I had finished school for the day and was sitting in the coffee shop writing, just like I did relatively every single day. But about an hour into my ordinary day, something purely extraordinary walked in to that little corner coffee shop. Hearing the bell ring as the door was opened pulled me out of my trance. Looking up from my tattered, stained, and abused notebook, I saw this creature. Something too beautiful to be human. Her blonde hair was loosely curled around her shoulders, her black jeans and written-on Converses added with her too-big-for-her Red Hot Chili Peppers sweatshirt, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare clutched in her hands with nails adorned with black paint, and the faint sound of Death Cab for Cutie emanating from the ear buds in her ears. Her whole body screamed perfection. The kind of perfection that would only be found in pure imagination. I had to pinch myself just to make sure that's not what this was, to make sure that this dark beauty as actually real.
As I watched her make her way to the table farthest from me, I began to notice the lack of air in my lungs. I had been holing my breath as if I didn't know how to do anything but. After taking a couple breaths, I began to study her. From the toes of her shoes to the hipster like hat that sat atop her head. She had an aura of sophistication, an aura that made you think she was smarter than you are, and maybe she was. I watched as her eyes moved across the pages of her battered book and I noticed the odd colour of them. It was as if they wanted to be blue, and yet, they were grey. Their colour fit her well. Blue eyes seemed too normal for someone as unique as her. These odd eyes moved over the pages like they weren't really seeing what was there, but her lips moved without sound as she said the words as if she knew them by heart.
Hours passed, and as the time approached nine, I began to wonder when she would leave. I knew I had to leave soon, but I also knew I would find it hard to leave while she still sat there. She was the kind of beauty that it would be illegal not to worship it. So I sat there for a while longer just observing everything about her. The way her hand brushed through her hair every couple minutes, and the way she wore rings on almost every finger. But as I glanced down at my watch, I found the time to be almost ten. Knowing that the shop closed at ten, I knew I had to be leaving then. As I finished gathering my things, I looked up to admire the beauty of the corner table one more time only to see her getting up to leave as well. I watched her walk out only to scold myself for letting her leave without catching her name.
Walking out of the shop and heading to my car, I got the feeling I was being followed. I stopped and turned around to find the dark nameless beauty standing less than three feet from me. I stood there taken aback at just how much her beauty was intensified as I stood that close to her. Without saying a word, she handed me a piece of paper. With a small glint of smirk on her face she turned away and headed in the opposite direction towards the only other car in the parking lot.
Opening the folded piece of paper, I was greeted with numbers that could only be a phone number and a beautiful cursive note.
"I noticed you staring, and I felt it necessary to give you my name and number. Text me when you would like to have a conversation with words and not stares."
I stared at the note for what seemed like hours. Xylia. What a unique name for a unique girl. It was then that I knew I had to see her again. And I had to hear the voice I had yet to hear that went with this stunning girl. But I knew I couldn't do it tonight. It would have to wait for a night where I wasn't buzzed on coffee and all too eager to talk faster than the human brain could comprehend. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night I would not text her, I would call her like a man should when dealing with such a precious specimen. And with that decided, I drove home to be treated with an unusual tiredness and a pleasant dream about Xylia.