Most Ardently

Lost In Your Current Like A Priceless Wine

Santana and I went to the same high school. Initially that was the only thing that linked us to each other – we both attended Rose Port's smaller high school, Saint Nikola. I regularly saw her drive up to the school in her small Mercedes convertible with her friends, singing along to whatever music it was that they listened to together. She walked past me in the halls almost everyday. Even though I had no ties to her, did not care much for her, she had the type of presence you could almost feel. You immediately knew when she had entered the area you were in, you did not even have to see her.

Objectively speaking, Santana was pretty. Stunning, even. Her skin was clear and a very deep tan, her lips were plump and very pink. She had pretty brown eyes that looked like those of a doll, and the streak of dyed hair at the base of her neck became her signature. The only thing that she ever changed about it was the colour.

For the only daughter of one of the most affluent families in Rose Port, Santana was not as obnoxious as one might think. She did not bully anyone, she seemed really friendly, and she did not consider herself to be too fragile for sports. Santana was what many might consider to be the perfect girl. Still, I had never spoken to her personally, and I had no opinion on her. Everyone else loved her. She was beautiful, down to earth and fun. Everything any guy was looking for; someone that anybody would be lucky to have around.

I personally did not understand her allure. Anyone could be nice to others, I felt that everyone praised her only because she was one of the rare cases where the popular girl is good looking, intelligent and kind all at once. She was definitely being oversold. That was what I thought until I had the opportunity to spend time with her.

It was an overcast and slightly chilly day. The bell had rung and I had made it all the way to the door of my Chemistry class before I realized that I had to go back, having forgotten the textbook in my locker. The halls were otherwise empty. The front doors squeaked, and she stepped timidly in. She seemed unsure, as if she did not want to be here at all. I only noticed because I knew how she normally looked. I went back to rummaging through my locker. Textbook in one hand, I slammed the door shut with the other. I jumped a little when I realized that she was standing right next to me now.

"Good morning. How are you?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm well, thank you for asking. How are you?" I replied more curtly than I had hoped I would sound. From far she had seemed hesitant to be at school, from up close I could see that something might have actually been bothering her. Pale dark circles hung around her eyes, which were red and slightly puffy. Her eyeliner was smudged around the outer corner. It looked like she had been crying, and for a while too.

"I won't lie, I have been better. Your name is James, right?"

I wondered how she knew my name but I would never ask.

"Yes, I am James."

"James, could you please lend me an extra protractor, if you have one? I forgot all of my stationery at home and it was too late to turn back and get it by the time I realized."

She had asked more politely than most people would have, but what moved me to help her was the fact that she seemed extremely exhausted. Not physically, but in general. She seemed resigned. I opened the locker one more time to retrieve the protractor. It was not a spare but I would not need it any time soon.

"Thank you so much," she smiled weakly when I handed it to her, "and I really like your poster. I love Gokushufudo. Tatsu is one of the best in my opinion." With that she continued walking down the hall but I did not want her to leave yet, for some reason.

"Santana," I said loudly.

She did not respond verbally, but she stopped walking and turned around.

"I don't mean to be rude but your eyes are a little puffy. I have a bottle of iced water if you want to use it. It could help with the swelling a bit."

We ended up skipping the rest of the classes and leaving the school that day. I drove Santana's car to a local fast food place while she reclined in the passenger's seat, pressing the cool water bottle to her closed eyes. We were headed to get some food before she took any painkillers because she had not managed to have breakfast before leaving for school that morning. Santana was usually so perfect. I wonder what had happened this morning.

She ordered a chicken burger with fries and a chocolate milkshake. I had a rib burger and fries. We sat in comfortable silence in the parking lot, asking each other general questions in between bites. That moment was when I realized just why everyone thought Santana was so amazing. It's because she was amazing.

After we ate she put the top up on her car and we had what she said was a 'siesta'. As I sat in that reclined driver's seat looking at her while she told me about how she did not know that she was allergic to kiwi until just recently, I knew why everyone felt the way they did about her. She was talking about something so mundane, something that was not necessarily interesting, yet I was curled up in the sound of her voice, enraptured by her. I found myself captivated by her, and all I knew was that I wanted her in my life for as long as possible.

When Saint Nikola's dismissal bell rang shrilly through the air, I drove to my house. I offered to drive her to her own home and take a taxi back to mine – she had taken painkillers and I did not like the idea of her driving like that – but she adamantly refused to waste any more of my time.

I wished she would.

She got out of the passenger's seat and came around to the driver's side as I unbuckled my seat belt and gathered my possessions. I stepped out and opened the door wider so that she could move past me unto the seat. She hugged me instead, exhaling deeply as she did. She smelt like vanilla and cinnamon sugar. It was remarkable.

"Thank you, James, for being so nice to me today. I hope we can hang out again some time soon," she told me once she pulled away. Me too, Santana, me too.