Aiden and Aveline

Do you remember those summers? The ones were you were lazy as a fat house cat without a care in the world? Right when you were entering the infamous teenage years, far enough so that you acted like a teenager, but not far enough that you had to work?

Well that was the summer I met Aiden.

It was right after school let out--before the freedom hit and before everyone left and you missed your friends. I was at the movies with my friend Rene. I just remember it so perfectly. I remember everything about him perfectly--it's almost as if Aiden, and everything about him, was burned into my memory, branding me for anyone to see.

Anyways, we had just entered the theater, and Rene was giggling like a little girl.

"Look at all the cute boys here!" she exclaimed in that hushed voice that girls use at times like that.

I would only roll my eyes at her. "They're not that cute."

And she would roll her eyes right back. "One day," she foretold, "you will find a boy that will bring you to your knees, and you'll fall head over heels."

I snorted. "Yeah, it'll be hard for me to fall head over heels if I'm already on my knees."

"Don't be such a smartass."

"I only look like a smartass cause you're acting like a dumbass."

The five or so people within earshot snickered--they were all teenagers, of course, who else would be at the movie theater at one in the afternoon?

And, of course, Rene hated that I had said that, rolling her baby blues disgustedly. She was, of course, the All American Beauty. And you know exactly what I'm talking about--petite, blonde hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin. I often told her that she didn't have blonde moments, that her whole life was a blonde moment.

She didn't like that either.

"I can't believe you convinced me to go to this movie," I said as we got in line.

"See that guy over there?" she said, acting as if I had said nothing at all.

I turned, and even though there was a throng of boys, I knew exactly which one she was talking about. "Yeah?"

"He's hot. He's been staring at me for five minutes."

I glanced at him again, noting his dark hair and gray eyes. "He has a crooked nose. But he's not even staring at you. He's staring at Christine," I corrected, referring to the innocent looking Asian girl that was in at least half my classes.

Rene fell silent, unhappy that the boy wasn't staring at her. He didn't go to our school, we had never seen him anywhere before, so naturally Rene wanted his attention.

I, on the other hand, cared not one whit. He was good looking, no doubt about it, but I was so used to being over shadowed by the American Beauty, as I called her, that one more time couldn't hurt.

The boy walked over, a slow, lithe gait, and spoke to us.

"Didn't I see you in New York?" he asked, staring at me with storm gray eyes, brow slightly furrowed. I immediately loved his voice--I remember thinking that honey couldn't compare, and that I was being ridiculous for thinking such a thing.

Rene opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off. "Not you. Her."

Her mouth remained open, shocked into silence, staring almost hatefully at me.

"Um, no, I've never left this town."

He smiled easily, relaxedly. "You're missing a lot, kid," he said.

I couldn't help but smiling back. "You're not older than me."

He chuckled, and leaned in towards me. To this day, I'm not sure why I allowed him so close to me so soon, but I did, and I don't regret it. "I've sure seen a lot more, though," he whispered, his breath hot on my ear.

He turned and left without saying another word, disappearing into Theater 7.

"You bitch," Rene hissed, and then stormed out of the theater, popcorn in the crook of her arm.

I stood there, confused and alone, and then walked slowly into Theater 7.