Love- (noun, verb) [ ləv ]
An intense feeling of deep affection; a deep romantic feeling for someone.
It was three months before the boy saw the girl again.
This time, they were ice skating.
The horrors of winter had just hit- the snow, the ice, the cold, the constant freezingness of it all, and yet, there was still something that the both of them had to look forward to- ice skating.
Perhaps it was a girly thing to do. But the boy didn’t care.
He was lacing up his skates, and so was she. He was beginning the slow ovals across the outskirts of the rink, and so was she. He was smiling, and she was, too.
He lost his balance, and she just so happened to collide with him.
“I’m so sorry, oh my god!” She exclaimed, standing up and brushing herself off. Suddenly, though, the realization of whom she had skated into hit her like a sack of bricks.
“It’s you!” She yelled, although she was beaming. The boy stood up, clumsily, still grinning as if he had never even fallen.
“Yep, I guess it is,” he replied, letting out a puff of air, watching it crystallize in front of him into a great ball of white. The girl watched it, too, and she smiled softly.
“Why are you following me?”
“I always come here. Every winter.”
“So do I.”
The boy wondered how many times he had seen this girl and never even realized.
No, he thought to himself. She’s too magnificent. I would have noticed her the second I laid my eyes upon hers.
“Are you listening to me?” Her brisk voice interrupted his thoughts. He blinked once, then twice.
“Of course. What were you saying?”
“How I’ve been thinking about what you said on the subway. About fate,” she repeated, and the boy smiled at her.
“Yes. I've decided that fate doesn’t exist. As you’ve said, everything has an ending, whether it’s good or bad, but it isn't predetermined. Nothing is, actually,” she spoke, and the boy wondered about her words. They were short but meaningful, and he kept them tucked away in the back of his mind.
“But don’t you ever get the feeling that the stars want things to happen because they will change the world?” The boy asked. The girl looked at him square in the eyes, and for a moment, all was silent.
Skaters skated past them. A clear blue sky was overhead. Cars drove past the rink. People yelled, screamed, shouted, laughed, but it was quiet as night.
“No, but maybe I do now,” the girl whispered, and the boy heard her as if she were as loud as a stampede of wild African animals.
He grinned, and he kissed her.
It wasn’t a long kiss. It was just a soft collision of two pairs of lips, but they fell into place as if they were the pieces to a puzzle. She was warm and soft and he was all aftershave and hard angles, and it fit not just like puzzle pieces but as two halves of the same soul.
“Well,” she breathed when they were done, and her cheeks and nose were pink as gum.
“You,” he muttered, “are one fabulous creature.”
The boy skated off to the side of the rink, and the girl watched the whole time, from the moment he pulled off his skates to when he left the area, and she was crying.