Meeting under the Tree

We met near the same tree every day. Though we never talked. Some days I noticed him, up on the highest branches. Other days, I just took reassurance in his presence. It was an indescribable feeling. I could feel his presence before I saw or heard him.

One day, he didn’t come.

He didn’t come the next day either.

Nor the third.

On the fourth I became curious and began to search for him. I found him in the library. In the furthest aisle. Kissing a girl.

That was the first time that I could relate to Holly Bourne’s words about the feeling of betrayal and jealousy. The feeling that someone just trampled over your heart.

And that someone was Reese, someone who wasn’t even my boyfriend. Not my friend, even. Just an acquaintance.

I pretended I was there to look for a book. I searched the shelves even though no word made sense.

Reese told the girl to leave and he leaned against the furthest shelf, watching with a mix self-satisfaction and amusement.

“That’s not really your type, is it? Why are you in the history sector?” He finally asked me.

“Just…browsing.” I lied.

Being a reader also gave you the ability to lie.

But being a reader also gave you the ability to catch other people’s dishonesty.

And he caught my lie right away.

“She’s not my girlfriend, by the way.” He said as he walked towards me, slowly.

“Just got into a stupid dare with my friends.” He tilted his head, to emphasize.

“You don’t have friends.”

I was mad.

I was mad at him.

Even though he had done nothing wrong.

“That’s true.” He admitted.

I turned to look at him and he had a smirk on his face. Smirk’s meant flirts.

“Maybe…maybe I just wanted to make you jealous.”

I scoffed, though I was blushing terribly. He just continued to stare at me, with his head tilted. Then he laughed and ran his hand through his perfect hair.

“We never had a proper introduction. I’m Reese Silver.”

“I’m Amanda Winters.” I murmured.

That was the proper introduction.

An improper introduction.

“So you’re the heartbreaker type?” I asked.

He shrugged.

“Never really took interest in females. Whose heart did I break?”

He tilted his head.

“Just inquiring. Don’t get the wrong idea.” I frowned, even though I was smiling inside.

“Is the wrong idea or the right one?” He had a slight smirk on his face.

He knew just how to pull my strings.

And he wasn’t pulling them, he was tugging them.

“Stop talking in riddles. Are you asking me if I like you?” I asked.

I would play his game.

All bold and fearless.

And I would ignore my constant thumping heart.

“Do you?” His eyes were twinkling with mischief.

There were no words to describe that moment.

Except maybe...

Playing hard to get.

“Maybe.”

That wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t sure if I was in love with him or if I was in love with falling in love.

What a thought.

I could use that.

That day, I went home and sat down for hours.

Writing a story.

About a girl with her head in fantasies.

And then her prince takes her back to reality.

And she realizes how much she missed.

After the day we met under the tree. Every day.

Until I missed one day.

And then the next.

And the third too.

And the fourth.

And the fifth also.

He came by to my place on the sixth.

He said he was generally curious and not taking interest in me at all. Such a white lie. I told him I was sick. Fever and flu and aches and pains. Sometimes so severe that I couldn’t even get up to get myself a glass of water. I was embarrassed when I had to ask him to get water for me.

“Why don’t you ask your family for assistance?” He asked.

I instantly turned red and looked down.

Why did he have to ask me?

But I had no choice.

I told him the truth. About my single mom. How we were struggling to make ends meet. How she was drunk almost all nights. How she was almost never home. How I had to work after-school at the local grocery store.

He listened to me like a reader. And accepted my story like a reader. He read me like I was a storybook. And I broke into tears after I told him the story.

He wiped my tears away.

And told me everything would be OK.

Then he left.

He visited me every day until I became better.

And then I was brave enough to call him my friend.

I talked to him a lot. I talked to him about everything.

And after a week, he knew mostly everything about me.

But I didn’t know anything about him.