First Love

Chapter Four

   “So,” Giselle demanded, her voice sounding faraway, as if she was on some marooned island. “How did he look like?”

  I spat toothpaste out of my mouth and rinsed it quickly.

  “Goodness, Giselle, I’m brushing my teeth. Can we do this later?”

  “Absolutely not!” She protested. “I’m stuck doing some English assignment that I can’t even understand. I need some joy in my life now.”

  “I don’t see how my description of some rich guy’s son can bring you joy,” I plucked open the container to my contact lenses.

  I hated wearing my glasses. I was literally blind without them but I hated the boxed-up constraints of glasses, the double blur of balancing sharp images and blurry ones in my peripheral and the annoyance of something constantly slipping up and down my nose. Marianne didn’t comment when I asked her for contacts months ago though. She’d probably thought I was doing something sensible for once in my life.

  “He’s not any rich guy’s son, Annalisa. You like him, and that makes him important enough.” She said, almost indulgently.

  I paused, swallowing with difficulty.

  “I’m going to pop my contacts in now. Hang on,” I said quickly and placed the phone on the counter.

  Did I like him? I thought of the night before, the stars, the party, and the gardens…it felt too surreal to believe. He seemed almost like a made-up character in my head, and I’ve made up so many characters in my free time that I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing was my hallucination.

  I shook my head. Quickly, I wore my contacts and took the phone.

  “I’m back,” I told her.

  “Details,” She said impatiently.

  I laughed.

  “I don’t know how to say it. Basically, he just has blond hair and brown eyes.”

  “Seriously? Your English is supposed to be superior to mine and I’m sure I can do much better,” She scoffed.

  “Well,” I leaned against my sink. “He’s transferring in. You’ll see him soon enough.”

  “I suppose so. What are you planning to do today?” She asked.

  “Library,” I pulled a comb through my unruly hair.

  “Well, I might have to end up there if I can’t figure this rubbish out,” Giselle groaned.

  “Do you want me to come over?” I asked.

  “Nah, Shelby’s coming over,” I heard her yawn.

  Shelby was this perky red-head that found everything funny, and she was nice enough to sit with me sometimes during break.

  “Not David?” I teased her.

  “Ugh, shut up. I’m going to get back to this assignment,” She sighed. “I’ll see you soon!”

  “Bye.”

  I gave my hair one last yank and let the limp waves fall down my shoulders in some haphazard puzzle. I wished my hair had retained some of the prettiness from last night, but it didn’t.

  Well, library, I told myself. That should put thoughts of the Christmas Party last night away because I was thinking too much of something that has passed; I was enjoying Marianne’s party. That thought horrified me.