Indico Emrald Anvair was, to put it simply, the love of my life. I had known him for four years and so we were as close as two people could get. We had met at one of my friends' thirteenth birthday party and had remained firm friends until his sixteenth when he had boldly asked me out on a date to an expensive restaurant without really knowing whether I'd reject him or not. I (evidently) said yes.
Back to the first time we met.
We had been standing under a gazebo in my friend's back garden on a warm night in September, me looking at the stars and him standing by the drinks table while music played and our peers danced around us.
I had glanced at him and, not wanting him to feel isolated, walked up to him and introduced myself.
"Hey, I'm Anna," I'd said.
He'd smiled at me: a nice, friendly smile. His shock of dark brown hair had looked slightly odd with the disco lights casting multicoloured dots of light on it and I'd found his eyes fascinating: a deep dark blue which I seemed to drown in.
"Indico," he'd replied. "But I prefer to be called my middle name, Emrald."
"Indico? Emrald? Wow, interesting names," I'd said.
"Very," he'd agreed.
"So... would you like to dance?" I asked. I didn't mean as a couple so I added, "Just as friends."
Indico had shaken his head. "I'm not much of a dancing person."
"Okay," I'd said. So then I'd started asking about where he went to school. I had been pleasantly surprised to find he was starting at my school that year. I had been glad I would see him round because he had seemed like an amiable guy.
Time flew by that night and before I knew it, I was saying goodbye to all my friends before climbing into my car and going home with my mum. I was quiet for the car journey, partly because I was tired but mainly because I was thinking of the new friend I had made.