Chapter 1: February 7th
The squeaking of a dry-erase marker writing on the stained whiteboard echoed through the silent halls of aspiring young minds. Scratching, clicking, and page-turning ceased to stop. I continued to scribble down the notes with my pink mechanical pencil as fast as the teacher could write them down on the old whiteboard. Every math problem kept my mind clouded. I have to keep writing. Faster... Faster... Snap! My eyes widened as I looked down at my pencil. I guess I was pressing down too hard on the lead. I focused my eyes on the streaks left behind by my pencil. My eyes soon became blurred over as if the cold air had frozen them shut. Every sound in the room became muffled to my ears. I gazed out the second-story window at the snow falling outside. White sheets covered everything in eyesight. Everything looked so beautiful as if the ground hasn't been walked upon in centuries. My mind began to wander deep into the white wonderland until I was snapped back to reality. My desk suddenly shook. Startled, I jumped up and shouted, "What the hell, Dylan?!" He then proceeded to shove a magazine picture of chocolate in my face. Frustrated at the fact that I was enjoying peace in quiet for once, I shoved the book out of my face. I could tell he saw the irritation in my eyes when he flashed me that goofy-looking smile. He then repeatedly tapped on the page with his long slender fingers and said, "I want this for valentine's day!" Confused and even more pissed off than before, I looked at him even more menacing, "You want me to make your chocolate with bourbon in it? Why?" His goofy grin almost stretched from ear to ear. With a stern and deep voice, he looked me straight into my eyes and said, "Because it is adult-like and more grown-up than all that sweet stuff so I want this instead."
This overly demanding idiot is my boyfriend. He is forceful, arrogant, and a sport-acholic, but I love him. From the top of his golden-brown hair to his dirtied shoes from soccer practice, I wouldn't change a thing. I guess I should start from the beginning. We began dating two years ago in April after he saved me from getting hit by a soccer ball. Cliche, I know. But, I remember everything about that day. Every detail of that large oak tree to the bit of dirt across his flushed cheeks. From there, we met frequently at that oak tree. Not soon after spring break ended, we discovered that we happen to go to the same school. Things just suddenly escalated from there. We ate lunch together, made plans almost every weekend when he didn't have practice and I fell in love with him. And now here we are. Him demanding me to make him "grown-up" chocolate for Valentine's Day. For some reason, he has always had this obsession with growing up faster. Maybe, no. I know the reason behind it. I told him I am leaving this town. In March, my father's job requires him to relocate, so of course, my family is obviously moving with him and as a sixteen-year-old, I have no say in staying here or not. He won't ever admit it to me, but I'm pretty confident, he wants to grow up faster, so we could be together longer. Although, just acting like a grown-up or whatever isn't going to change anything. It really is impossible. I'm not trying to be pessimistic and I don't love him any less than I did before and I probably love him more than he knows. I just assume I know how to face reality better than he does. Staying in a relationship knowing we won't see each other again for maybe three or four years is just too painful for either of us to bear. Breaking up after I leave is the best thing to do. I don't want him to be held down by me.
Me zoning out to his declaration to me to make this chocolate for him came to a sudden stop when a needle-like pain rushed to my forehead.
"Ouch!"
Dylan pulled back his hand with a slight frown on his tanned face.
"Did you just flick my forehead?!"
He turned his head to the side and crossed his muscular arms like a child and said, "Well you were ignoring me and it's not my fault your forehead is such a big target."
I quickly covered my forehead in embarrassment. He knew exactly how to irk my nerves. Sometimes I feel like he purposely makes fun of me because he knows I never have any comebacks and I just stand there speechless with a flushed face. "How to mean! How could you say that! You know the size of my forehead has always been an insecurity of mine!"
He uncrossed his arms and leaned on my desk. The pressure of his hand pressing against my desk defined his arm muscles even more. You could see every vein, every detail of his arm coated with a waxed caramel sheet. My face became flushed. He got closer to my face. So close, I could smell the scent of his cologne and sweat from morning practice. The smell enchanted all my senses. As sweet as honey lavender, but sharp as a knife. Coaxed in my mind, all I could think of was Dylan. Embarrassed, I covered my pale face with my sleeve-covered hands and looked back at the sheets of snow.
"Well, you shouldn't have ignored me, Fawn!" Dylan's voice rang through my ears as if angels came to say hello. It was so strong and comforting to my cherry red ears. Carefully peering my eyes up to his arms to his jawline and finally, our eyes met. His deep brown eyes were captivating. So clear, you could see all of his deep dark secrets. I know he could see the lovestruck look in my cold blue eyes. His eyes began to smile and my eyes broke from his. He looked back down to the chocolate-filled magazine.
"You know, Fawn, I would really like these chocolates even if they were bought. You don't have to make them if you don't want to. I just really need them." the sadness eradicated from his raspy voice. His eyes came back to me. "You will get them for me, right? For your loving, supporting, and caring, boyfriend?"
And the puppy dog eyes begin. Why does he do this? I know he is just trying to look past the fact I'm leaving, but what would some chocolates even do? It won't stop me from going. It won't make him older. It won't make me older. Drowning in my thoughts and his staring, I look at the clock hanging above the classroom door.
"Dylan. You know it's 3:30 p.m. Didn't practice start fifteen minutes ago?"
His eyes quickly looked at the clock and I have never seen someone throw themselves so fast across desks to get to a duffle bag in my life. I let out a small chuckle at his clumsiness. He grabbed his gray duffle bag and darted toward the door, but suddenly came to a stop and turned around back towards me. His large hand reached behind my head and pulled me forward to meet his lips. How sly. He pulled his warm lips away from mine and placed his forehead on mine making sure to make direct eye contact.
"Make sure you look at that magazine for me, babe."
His silhouette disappeared from the classroom door as fast as it came. I sighed to myself placing my hand on the one thing I dreaded. A goodbye.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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