How I Met You – Part Two

I know that some people (will not mention names) have been dying to see the second part of the story I posted How I Met You. Yes, the story is still not finished, but I think that the slow release of each chapter brings that all inclusive holiday suspense to it.

Hope you enjoy! (Maybe, if you cannot remember, scroll back to June on the archives and find part one!)

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Can you remember what was happening first? I can, it was a day in July just before we endeavoured in our GCSEs the following year, without a care in the world but the way we felt about animals and our friends. Why did we even care? It’s laughable, now, isn’t it, just? We were sitting parallel to each other, as if we were never going to meet, our lines would never cross. Thinking back about that, sadness swamps me like a wave machine that would not stop. How terrible, that at the time I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t notice that we were running parallel to one another, or that we might never meet. I didn’t notice that I was running parallel to multiple other people out of the group that surrounded me and you. I didn’t know that we wouldn’t speak, but I didn’t know that we would either, until we did.

A sharp object poked the back of my head a few moments after we sat down on the emerald sea. I stroked my hair to try and decipher what had hit my scalp. I was fearful that one of the infamous seagulls had planted itself on my head, or there was a tumour on the back of my brain trying to make me unconscious. I could not figure it out, so I turned. You were there. The curls of your hair just bobbed on top of your head, as though you had just woken up that way. God knew that you had; just naturally handsome.

In that second I was unfamiliar with your manner, as though you were hitting me in the head for a ‘laugh’. I thought it was purposeful – you throwing a stick at my head. I realised it was a stick after it was sitting in my shoe. I picked it up, examined it – do you remember? – and threw it back so that it would land in your curls. I got it there first time round. This, I now believe, was a fated act – I got the stick in your curls to signify that I was the first love.

It was bizarre how uncanny this felt to me; did you feel the same way? It is evident that there was going to be a match, as you picked up a bigger stick and threw it at me again. Game. On. I spat out of my mouth, as though I was six-foot-seven, when really I was just a petit little five-foot-zero.

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I am leaving you in suspense. Enjoy.

To my boyfriend, wishing a happy two years!

-ALWright.

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