Our Book Bound By Love

Prologue: Eyes and Borderlines

I always go to this local bookshop after school to grab my favorite superhero comics. It's a favorite hobby of mine; reading about these awesome people with superpowers fighting evil villains and saving the day. I want to become a superhero too that's why I indulge myself in these stories and imagine that I am Captain America or Superman saving people from danger.

You might say that it's a really childish ambition to want to become a superhero, that I should focus more on real ambitions like becoming a doctor or a lawyer since I'm already in high school. I think it's boring, having a regular job and a regular life. I want to be different, to make a difference, and to be loved by everybody for my heroic deeds.

I guess I'm really still a child.

As I grabbed the newest issue of The Avengers comics and headed for the counter, I saw him there in the classics section of the bookshop.

He had emerald green eyes that looked curious as he scanned the titles of the books on the shelves; long, slender fingers that ran through the spines of the books; light blond hair and fair skin that made him look so surreal, like the sun. His most distinct features were his eyebrows. He had thick, prominent eyebrows.

He was wearing a uniform – black coat with a red tie. Private school kid. Must be rich. His black shoes were polished and shined and his uniform was so neatly ironed – almost no creases. And to think that school hours are over, he looked like he didn't even move the entire day.

I looked at my worn jeans and soiled sneakers. I felt like I shouldn't even be in the same room as him.

He pulled out a book and read the back cover. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied the summary. After a few seconds, he returned the book to its slot with a frown and a wrinkled nose and looked for another book.

Something about this guy made me really curious. What kind of guy is he? Just from the thirty seconds that I first saw him is enough to tell that he is a straight A student. I bet he has read all of Shakespeare's boring plays. I bet he writes ten pages for all of his essays with perfect grammar and big words. I bet he knows the spelling of every single word in the English language. And I bet I would be rich now if I had bet all that with one million dollars.

As I continued observing this guy, I wondered what sport he plays. Not football, his shoulders aren't that broad, his arms were slender, not an athletic build. His fingers were slender and didn't even have callouses, I noticed, when he ran his fingers through the bookshelves. He doesn't seem to be the type of guy who spends his time outdoors with activities that might damage his skin.

I suddenly realized that I had been staring at him for more time than was acceptable for a boy to stare at another boy, because he noticed and looked back at me, then I blinked stupidly in surprise, then he looked at my clothes, the comics I was holding, then looked away and turned his attention back to the classics section of the bookshop.

Okay, quite a snob, I thought. What more could you expect from a rich, private school kid? The way he even looked me up and down says that there's a borderline I couldn't cross. I almost imagined a glowing barrier suddenly materialize around him that I thought I might be burned if I came near.

Spot the difference: Me, a boy with an athletic body and slightly tanned skin, blond hair, blue eyes with glasses, wearing a bomber jacket, worn jeans and soiled sneakers. Reeks of sweat and deodorant. Him, a boy with a slender body and fair skin, blond hair, green eyes, wearing a black coat, red tie, and black slacks – all ironed perfectly. Black shoes, polished and shiny. Has the smell of expensive perfume. All clean, all proper.

More like spot the similarity, which is only our hair color, and his is even lighter!

He now carried one book in his hand, a thick, hardbound one with a black jacket. He continued to scan the bookshelves with such intensity that I wouldn't be surprised if he could set them on fire with his eyes.

I realized I was staring again so I pretended to look at books too. I also ran my fingers through the books, tapping them as if they were computer keys, and stealing a glance at him every now and then. I pulled one book, flipped through the pages without even reading the words, and returned it. I did it again with another book. And again.

What is it with him? I have never stayed in this bookshop for more than thirty minutes. I have never even bothered to stray away from the comics section. And now here I am, in the young adult section of the bookshop, stalking this strange boy I have never seen before, curious to know about him. I have never paid so much attention to every single detail of a boy ever before. Only a girl does that.

Then it hit me. I am now back in my world of superheroes. He is a rich kid, the type of person who is a favorite target for kidnapping by the evil villains. I imagined myself in a cape and a tight suit, fighting off his kidnappers, taking him away from the evil lair, and bringing him home safe and sound to his grand mansion.

He needs protection. From me. He needs my protection from all those who might try to harm him because of his wealth and status.

A book fell and hit my foot and that's when I came back to reality. Scratching my head, I saw that he was no longer in the classics section. I turned around, searching for him, and there he was on the cashier already paying for his books and the next moment he was out of the shop. I ran to the windows and saw him getting inside a car, well, not a limo, but definitely an expensive car. He was gone before I could even think of a way to introduce myself.

With a sigh, I paid for my comics, hoping that it might distract me later from thinking of that boy again. What made me think that he would need my protection? My overly heroic instincts kicked in again. How would he even react if I had tried to talk to him? Would he laugh at me or would he turn up his nose and ignore me completely?

I guess I was just stunned by his presence that gives off a royal-like aura. Or I'm just a snoop.

I really need to grow up.

Still, as I lay in bed while reading my new issue of The Avengers, I can't help but hope to see him again, maybe even become friends with him.

Of course, when I remembered how we are worlds apart with our differences, friendship is out of the question.

Author's Notes: New story! Yay! I'm so excited to start this one because compared to Where My Wild Friends Are, this has more Arthur in it. So... what do you guys think?