Find You

Ch. 1

Becca

Names floated through my head as the breeze slapped at my clammy skin in panting gusts. What could I change my name to? How could I erase my past and go forward--to somewhere where I wouldn't be someone's dirty description. Images of the night flashed through my mind. It was just like any other party in a way, but it made darker splotches of my lifestyle surface from the muck where they had rested. All because of that boy. I thought
I could trust him; he was my boyfriend after all. I could almost hear all the other girls twisting their blond extensions and smacking their lips to form the words "Jason called Becca a whore to her face!" They wouldn't be said in a pitying way to my benefit, or a disgusting way to mock Jason. Those syllables wouldn't be uttered with any emotion at all. It was just more gossip to mutter in dark alleyways. Of course, I'd always been one of the gossipers, the populars, the seventeen year old party beauties who couldn't seem to get enough. The truth had surfaced tonight.

Forehead dripping with cold stress, I stood on the platform and waited for the subway. It was all but abandoned this time of night. No one was here, and there was no one sitting on the empty trains that passed by me. I planned to get off at the last stop before the trains would head to the rail yard in a pileup for the night, waiting for the next dawn of Chicago's commuters. There was no on here to see my slinky party dress or smeared makeup and so I tossed my curled hair up into a messy top not a tied it with a band. I took off my heels and let my toes mess with the grime on the concrete floor.

The train arrived. I got into the car, and sat down on one of the grimy seats, self conscious in the bright LED lights. I let a smile stretch across my mauve lips. It wasn't a time for grinning--but I was happy. Happy that I'd finally realized where my life was going in time to steer it back on track. One thing was for sure. I was never going to another God damn highschool party for as long as I was on this earth.

Just as I was getting into a bit of a turning-my-life-around mentality, I heard something. I froze, a little scared of who might be in this car with me. Slowly, I turned around. A boy, probably a year older than myself, sat on a bench a few rows behind me. He gingerly held in his tanned arms a cherrywood guitar, stained a beautiful gold. The guitar wasn't pristine though, it looked worn with age. The wear made it all the better, as the beautiful object looked immaculate even in the harsh light of the train. Our near abandoned car dove into a tunnel and the flashing light panels that whizzed by seemed to gently caress the guitar and make it shine in nonexistent moonlight.

Turning my transfixed gaze from the instrument to the boy holding it, I saw that he somehow resembled his guitar. He was tanned and sort of scruffy looking with dark hair that was flecked with sun highlights. His gaze stayed down, at the guitar, as he began to strum a few notes. I was transfixed as those notes became chords and the chords melted into a beautiful melody. Not for the first time that night, tears itched at the edges of my eyes where the mascara was already smeared. Gradually, the melody stopped. The boy eased the guitar out of its song and strummed a last note before his fingers fell to his knees and his eyes lifted to meet my own. Rimmed with dark, thick lashes, his turquoise irises shimmered with flecks of green and gold. They were just like my own; an every changing globe of green and blue with passing clouds of emerald and hazel.

I felt it--a tug on my heart I recognized as some kind of crush. Stupid. I'd only just met him; well, not even met seeing as I didn't yet know his name. I couldn't help it, though. I was drawn to him like it was meant to be.