I woke the next day to find the snow had subsided, and the winter sun desperately seeking some spotlight. It looked to be a good day, until with a sinking feeling I remembered the embarrassment set in store for me.
I picked up a few groceries for my aunt, Lily, who had been my guardian, since my mother died when I was three from melanoma. On that point, I should mention that I don't know who my father is, though the town has many opinions upon that matter. I always fervently tried to block out their mutterings- what did it matter? Anyway, I had lunch with Lily, a busy lawyer working in the next city, who I rarely spent time with, so I appreciated it quietly.
After she sped off in her little nissan, I threw on a deep purple sweater, and some dark blue jeans. I quickly fixed my hair, wondering silently whether I should make an effort. After three seconds of mental deliberation, I decided that it would probably only be a waste of time...
I made my way over to Amy's house, a large old farmhouse, painted ivory, it had wall flowers climbing up it's face. I pushed open the gate, as I mentally noted that her father's jeep was nowhere to be seen. I knocked on the black door, and felt the stirrings of butterflies in my tummy. Stop it, I told myself, this will come to nothing as always...He either won't look twice in my direction, or he will be a total ass. But for some unknown reason, I had this feeling, somewhere lodged beneath those butterflies...That this was crucial somehow. Somehow this felt like it mattered, suddenly, as I stood before the threshold.
The door swung open, and with my intake of breath, I saw him. This is the only way to describe my first thought upon seeing Rory. It was him. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was screaming- This is him! Amongst this, my brain was slowly noting everything else. His beautiful brown eyes, deep and somehow insightful. His dark brown hair... even the way it laid, well it made me want to scream. The perfection of it. And more than that his gentle smile...I could not describe it even if I tried.
And he spoke: ''Breathe!'' he said , alarm colouring his voice, along with a hint of amusement.
And with that, I remembered to breathe (whilst noting the melodical tones to his voice) . ''Oh,'' I gasped (Why could I not think of anything less completely idiotic!) .
The funny thing was, I could have sworn he was experiencing the same emotions as I. I can't explain how, it was this pit-of-tummy thing again, along with a look in his face, that I knew was mirrored in mine. It felt as if, somehow, I had found a key, that fitted into my lock.