‘Our love is the brightest star of all.’

 “Hey”, said a low smoky voice from behind me. I turned around rather abruptly; I didn’t expect to run into someone so far off the trail. I came face-to-face with a strikingly handsome boy. “You’re Jasmine, right?”, he said. He knew my name. Warning bells went off in my head and every kidnap, murder and rape case I’d ever heard about flashed through my mind.

I scanned the face of the handsome stranger in a Dartmouth hoodie before me, laugh lines softened his chiseled face and his eyes seemed to smile. I felt a wave of serene hit me.  “Uh… hi?” His face seemed familiar; you can’t easily forget something so beautiful.  

“Funny running into you here, I didn’t take you for a outdoors person.” My nostrils flared slightly and I crossed my hands over my chest. I found it extremely annoying when people make preconceived judgments before giving you a chance to open your mouth.

“Is that so?” I asked with raised eyebrows. I enjoyed a little battle of wits; I had a feeling the boy in front of me would make a brilliant counterpart. I built up anticipation for a witty retort but all I got was, “Um. ya.” I suppressed a snort. That stupid smartass geek, his Ivy League education should’ve made him capable of giving a adequate answer. His poor parents spent a fortune for nothing.

“Excuse me, how do you know my name?” I asked in the politest tone I could muster. Which was hard because I lost respect for the fool who’d backed down. The stranger smiled warmly, I noticed the crinkles by his eyes. I felt the iciness towards him melt away.

 “You’re a star,” he said his blue grey eyes twinkled. My mind went blank. I had no idea what he was talking about. “Sorry but I don’t follow.” Perhaps if he didn’t speak with a great deal of charm coated words maybe I’d have a chance of comprehending him.

 He gave me a big toothy grin. Boy, he’d sure score perfect in a dental exam.  “Let them eat cake. Summer of 2013.” My mouth formed ‘O’ and I laughed. I couldn’t believe he was referring to the small charity I started years ago. “I’m hardly a star, I’m just following my dreams.” I explain.

He smiles and intently looks into my eyes. “That’s enough to make you my star.” His every syllabus flirted. I felt blush creeping along my neck. Then somewhere in my brain it clicked, I knew this boy; his charisma was unforgettable. “Marcus Fields, Dalton high school. Summer of 2013.” He walked past me and sat down on the blanket I’d brought. He pulled a moleskin notebook from his pocket and replied, “Correct.”