Forgetting

Chapter 1- The Book I Read

He was so tangible, so real, it was almost as though I could reach out and touch him through the yellow tinged pages of the book. Everything about him was achingly familiar; the strong curve of his jaw with a subtle hint of stubble, the sharp angles of his chiseled face, and the way his mouth quirked up at the corner when he smiled. Most of all, it was those deep brown eyes I loved, eyes the color of melted chocolate, eyes that could see right into my very soul. I reached forward instinctively, running my hands over the page.

How could someone who was made up of mere words and ink feel more real than actual people with heartbeats and bodies?

Before I could get further lost in the book, in him, the loud ring of the school bell jerked me back to reality. I shut the novel and slipped it into my bag, my head spinning. It was ridiculous how much just reading about him affected me, like he was a part of my body that I desperately needed in order to feel complete again.

Vaguely, I realized I was never going to find an actual boyfriend at this rate. Who'd want to date a girl when their potential competition was a guy who didn't even exist?

Nobody. That was the sad truth. I sighed, running my hands through my curly hair; it never seemed to stay in place, which was infuriating, especially since all my other friends had perfect, iron-straight locks.

Anya, my best friend since the second grade, watched me with amusement glinting in her soft brown eyes.

"Akira, I have never seen you that engrossed in a book before," She remarked.

I plastered a wide smile on my face, mostly so that I didn't have to answer her. She might have been my best friend, but how could I explain to her, to anyone really, why I felt such a strong connection to one particular male character in it? I didn't even fully understand what was going on myself.

" I've liked books before," I said airily, but I was lying. Of course, lying to your best friend doesn't really get you anywhere. We'd known each other for eight years, and in all that time Anya never saw me pick up a book voluntarily even once. I'd avoided them like the plague.

However, being the complete sweetheart that she was, she didn't call me out on this lie.

" What is this book called?" She asked, sounding curious.

I told her, and she snorted loudly, coiling her hair into a tight knot at the top of her head. Wispy tendrils escaped from the bun and danced around her face. I knew it sounded incredibly shallow, but sometimes I wished I was as pretty as her.

" You know what's strange? I've never heard of it," She said," It probably isn't very famous."

I hadn't known about it before, either. My younger sister, who was a total bookworm and the exact opposite of me in every other aspect as well, had recommended it to me. I'd been so bored one afternoon that I'd picked it up and flipped through the first few pages just to have something to pass the time. It wasn't long before I was hooked. I wished I could have tracked down the author, but there was no trace of his/her name anywhere in it. That was a pity. I had a few crucial questions to ask, especially when it came to a certain someone with whiskey brown eyes.

" Well, since today is our first day of the 11th grade, lets stop thinking about a stupid book and start looking for some hot new boys," Anya announced excitedly, wiggling her perfect eyebrows at me. I had no idea how she did them every week. It must hurt like hell.

I also had no idea how she was talking happily about meeting new boys when she had a perfectly nice one of her own, who was probably waiting faithfully for her in the canteen right then. Well, if anyone was a huge flirt, it was my best friend.