Artgirl

5// the moment I knew

CHAPTER 5: THE MOMENT I KNEW

"You were red and you liked me because I was blue. You touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky, then you decided purple just wasn't for you." -halsey aka a major babe

Zoey Willow Hunter

THE first time James and I ever spoke was on the first day of second grade. He moved here from Haiti and barely uttered any comprehensible English, instead spoke French. Fascinated by his hair, I smiled at him and said: "Hi. I'm Zoey." And in return, he said: "Moi, James." That was that.

The first time he saw me cry was in seventh grade. It was the day the divorce papers between my parents were filed in. He awkwardly stood by the door of the empty girls' school bathroom and cried out: "Tell me what's wrong."

The first time he taught me how to fight was after Nico left. He had a punching bag set up in his basement and every Thursday, after school, he gave me boxing lessons, because he knew how to box since he was twelve. He laughed so hard that he fell on the ground, when the primary place I kicked was the punching bag's imaginary balls, while saying: "You got no balls, bag!"

The first time James ever kissed me was on Halloween of 2015-no, technically, on the 1st of November. He was disguised as a fireman and I was a lion. We were at a party his friend was throwing and all of us were invited. He grabbed my hand and we danced until our feet hurt. His smile got me drunk and his eyes were a drug.

He spun me around on an upbeat song, held his arms around my waist. The world surrounding us was crazier, but I was intoxicated by his touch. I laughed and complained that we looked different than everyone else, but he pulled me close and I could taste his smile. There was a girl eyeing him from afar, but his eyes never left me.

I told him, "someone's got her eyes on you. Go give her a bit of James love, she looks like she might kill me," I toyed with the straps of his costume.

"I don't care," he said, "You're the only one I want to give my love to."

And he lowered his head closer to mine. My mind was buzzing and my heart was pumping furiously. His nose bumped into mine, and soon did his lips.

Ever since, I never kissed anyone else. He made me feel whole, as if he were the checkmate in a game of chess. Flawed and imperfect, we both accepted each other, no matter what.

When I was at my worst, when my hair was a mess and tears rushed down my face and I didn't want to meet the world anymore, he held me in his arms and kissed my forehead. He'd tell me a stupid joke and make fun of himself. He'd say, "I'm here. And I will always be, until the moon falls out of the sky." Then, I'd fall asleep with words of love dying on my lips.

The last time I kissed him was before I had to leave. Family and friends present, he was the last person I had to say goodbye to. He hugged me for a good ten minutes, kissed my lips for a shorter time than I would've liked, wiped my tears and laughed. He told me, "I'll see you later, okay?" Because we both agreed that goodbyes hurt.

The minute I landed in London, I realized that my biggest difficulty would be distance from him and my family. Going from seeing them everyday to barely seeing them once a week was hard.

It was why, on days like this, I wished I could take a plane back to Silvercrest. All I wanted was to spend as much time as I could with them, with him. I yearned to have a girls' night with Diana, or help Julia with her homework, or even just go out to McDonald's at midnight with James.

The coffee in my hands was missing heat; I debated on reheating it or throwing it away. Dipping the edge of the mug in the sink, I got rid of it.

"It's Sunday," cheered feebly Jessie, walking out of our room to the front door, "why so glum, chum?"