-

In the third grade, Cindy Carson skipped to my desk in a matching tie-dye shirt and short set and asked me to be her boyfriend.

Now, I didn't like Cindy Carson, not in the slightest but everybody was watching and she had doe eyes.

So with a high-five to seal the deal, I was Cindy's and she was mine.

It was bliss, I guess, she shared her snacks with me and I was ecstatic because I didn't have any.

The universe always seems to sprinkle just a bit of goodness, when you need it the most.

But like all good things, it came to an end when she left me for Bradley Cho two days later – the rumours say he had better stickers than I did.

It's comical really but after Cindy, labels fizzed for me.

I just had a lot of nothing, meaningless fun little nothings that probably did more bad than good.

Whatever the case, nothing meant that I didn't have to meet families, go on dates or worry about birthdays and deal with feelings.

I didn't have to pretend it was something more when I knew it wasn't.

It worked for me, I damn sure didn't want something more, I already have too much going on.

So imagine the disbelief when 'something more' strutted through the doors of my job with auburn hair and a different book every week and I felt the immediate need to do everything and go everywhere under the sun with her.

She's spellbinding, she must be.

Her magic holds me in place while her fingers tighten the reins, I'm ensnared in her essence and I don't think I ever want to be found. I hear her name in every song and see her smile in every face, I don't think this feeling will ever go away.

-

"GOOOALLLL" Ryan and I shout in chorus as the ball connects with the back of the net, the camera panning from left to right as FC Barcelona fans erupt in cheers and applause.

It's been a couple of days since Ryan stepped foot in Sam's coffee shop and in a show of luck, we were on track to becoming fast friends.

It's not that we have a ton in common, in fact, I think our mutual interests end at football and Alice.

It's just he's mellow, this distinct cool confident calm that I've never seen before. If the sky was falling and he told me it wasn't, I'd believe him before reality.

Slugged across the couch in Alice's living room, pizza boxes stacked high and the game at its loudest volume, I think this is what life would have been like if I had brothers instead of sisters.

"What a guy, what a play." Ryan says in star-struck awe as the number 9 jogs around the field before crashing into his teammates in a celebratory pile on. "That's his second hat-trick this season."

"He stepped his game up, they were talking about trading him last month." I point to the information at the side of the screen.

"That's what I'm talking about J-Money, the hustle never stops, you just got to keep going." Ryan exclaims as he sits up to read the Premier League Stats.

J-Money, hah.

Despite Leo and I's earlier speculation Ryan isn't a linebacker, he's actually a third-year business major with a double minor in Economics and Political science at Columbia University in Manhattan.

He thinks it's hilarious to relate everything especially nicknames back to the 'driving forces behind the human existence, money and motivation.'

It's not funny but I still find myself laughing before the sound of a series of exaggerated sighs echoes from the floor.

Glancing down, I find hell's fury radiating off Alice as her fingers tightly grip the corners of her notebook and her eyes zero in on Ryan.

If looks could kill, we might make it on the 6'o clock news.

Oblivious to his slow approaching death, Ryan reaches forward - grabbing another slice of cheese pizza, his eyes never leaving the glow of the television.

Alice's inflamed eyes must finally begin to burn a hole through Ryan's head because he turns and his eyes meet hers, prompting the spread of a lazy smile across his lips.

"What's the matter, Allie Millionaire?" Ryan asks, his voice the epitome of innocence as he blinks down at an enraged Alice.

"Well brother dearest, other than the fact that you continue to use dumb nicknames, no one else likes. You've stolen my boyfriend, completely hogged him for the last week and now you're distracting me from organizing my script." Alice grunts through gritted teeth before a sickly sweet smile plays against her lips.

Ryan leans back, his eyes widening as he feigns full-blown shock before raising his hand to his chest, right where his heart is for the extra theatrics. "Everybody likes the nicknames, right J-Money?"

I'd learnt very early not to get in the middle of siblings on opposing sides so I nod reassuringly at Ryan when he looks over his shoulder at me and vigorously shake my head 'no' at Alice, the second he turns away.

"Traitor, he may be bigger but I'm stronger. Fear my wrath, Ryder." Alice shouts as she throws a crumpled ball of paper at me.

I chuckle as I swat the paper ball away. "I'm shaking in my boots, baby."

"Easy Alice, jealousy doesn't look good on you. Plus, be thankful, the more time I spend with J-Money, the less time he has to think about leaving you." Ryan says casually as he bites into his pizza.

Alice's jaw drops and her eyes widen before she jumps from her place on the floor and places her hands on her hips. "I am so glad you are going back to your dumb girlfriend and your dumb University tomorrow. Ryan Carter, you are ruining my relationship."

I try, I really try but I cannot help the laugh that escapes from my lips as I double over. "I had a very similar conversation with Leo, yesterday. Apparently, Ryan is monopolizing me." I breathe out through chuckles, as the siblings' laughter joins mine.

"Not Leo Dinero, too?! Damn, one week and I'm already a threat to all your relationships." Ryan muses, a smug grin on full display as he winks at his sister. "Some Carters have it, others don't."

-

I didn't know a person could leap so far but as Alice lunged from one end of the living room to the other, to tackle her brother, I quickly learnt.

I may not have a ton of experience in the boyfriend department but I know when your girlfriend's mad, you make sure it's not for long.

Gripping her hand, I whisk her away - our steps en route to 'The New Romantics' a book store a couple of blocks over as I promise to buy whatever book her heart desires.

She grins in response, dusting my face in her tender kisses as she bounces down the sidewalk.

It's a short walk and we're soon greeted by the strong smell of ink and paper that wafts through the air.

Alice takes her usual place, nuzzled into my side as my arm lays around her shoulder. We pass idly through the isles between bookshelves, her eyes and fingers running gleefully across the books as if she can read the stories from cover to cover with just a touch.

Funny enough, I believe she can, she is as enchanting as she wants to be, the world waits for her.

Stumbling, I almost lose my footing entirely as Alice comes to a rather haphazard stop, her finger frozen on a particular book. Slipping away from me, she reaches up on the tip of her toes to pull the book from its bind.

"Is that the one you want?" I ask but Alice only stares at the book before cradling it to her chest, her eyes shutting tight as they brim with salty tears.

"Woah, woah, what's wrong?" My arms wrap around her trembling frame, even as she whispers, that she's okay and she's alright.

The words flow more like a mantra repeated over and over instead of actual signs of being alright and being okay, so I hold her tighter.

She buries her face into my chest, cold wet tears making its way through the thin material of my shirt, her head shaking from side to side as I run my hands up down the length of her back.

"I'm right here, talk to me, Alice." She grips the ends of my shirt, appearing to steady herself as she takes a long deep breath and slowly pulls away from our embrace.

She attempts a smile but it's a disastrous effort, sighing she resorts to placing the book into my hands.

"The Heart is a Lonely Hunter." The title reads in large, bold, white and grey letters.

My fingers drag against the cover, outlining the word lonely before I look to Alice, whose managed to compose herself.

The tears may be gone but I can feel it, it's here again, the same heaviness that seems to drift around, waiting on its cue - Black coffee, Manhattan, pills and this book.

What is she running from? What's chasing her down?

"This is one of my favourite books, though I never read it anymore. It....it, takes me to places, I try not to be anymore." She scoffs and emits a bitter laugh as she angrily wipes away the remaining tears glistening against her cheek.

There's an offbeat pause in which I hesitate, I don't think I should but it feels crucial I ask. "What's it about?

She blows a puff of air, tired and soft but heavy all the same as she leans against the bookshelf. "What isn't this book about is a better question. Loneliness, isolation, racism, injustice." She pauses, her eyes hazy before they focus on me.

"The main character, John Singer...he's disabled, deaf but mute by choice. I, well I, thought of this book for the first time in a long time, when I thought you were mute and then I learnt your name and...Uh. Anyways." she flashes her hand around to ensure that piece of information is discarded but I can't throw it away, it feels important.

"Singer loses his best friend and feels lost and alone so he moves to a new town, where he meets all these people who are all, lonely and sad and desperately seeking some kind of hope." The word hope leaves her tongue in a rather poisonous way, a sure death to anyone who dares to feel it.

"He's the hope they've been searching for?" I try to rush the story to the ending, books always have happy endings, don't they?

"No! He somehow becomes some professional listener because he doesn't respond. He's like a blank canvas or an empty notebook, where everyone can write their pain and misery as if he doesn't have his own." She mutters harshly, her hands folding across her chest as she slides down the bookshelf and sits on the carpeted ground.

"When you think, no, when you hope that maybe it will all be okay, the harsh realities of life set in and John kills himself, hopeless. Everyone feels lost and confused....in the end everyone is still broken, everyone is still a lonely hunter, searching and seeking." She murmurs, her voice sounding every bit of broken.

My throat is as dry as the Sahara and this book, this tragic book feels as heavy as lead, without reading it, I know the story all too well.

I can remember a time without Alice, a time without Sam, a time without anyone.

Memories as powerful as a hurricane flood and pool me with despair and grief; Memories I don't want to share with Alice.

Sliding down the bookshelf, I sit next to her, resting my hand against her bouncing knee. "You've been a lonely hunter?"

She nods before leaning her head against my shoulder.

"A lonely hunter, searching and seeking. I think deep down everyone's a lonely hunter." I reach over to hold her hand in mine.

"But we're lucky, right? We have what everyone keeps searching for, us...this, each other?" Alice asks, leaning forward to look at me, her sad sultry eyes penetrating.

I smile, I can't help it, who would have thought the sun needed reassurance.

"Yeah, we have each other." I lean down and my hands make their way to her cheeks, ushering her face to mine as our lips meet in a surge of warmth and need.

We pull away and the minutes pass but we continue to lean against each other, a heap on the floor, its soothing.

"Johnny?"

"Yeah, Alice?"

"There's, there's stuff that I haven't told you...stuff, I-I, I'm scared to say, I don't want you to go yet..." Alice whispers, her body rigid next to mine.

"Hey, hey I'm not going anywhere, ever." I throw my arm around her, holding her tight as she nuzzles into my chest. "I'm...I'm running from things I don't talk about too."

She nods against my chest, her arms wrapping around my stomach. "I know. I knew you were a lonely hunter the minute I saw you. It's okay."

Do the lonely seek each other out or are we made broken so we'll find the one who completes us? I don't know, I don't know.

I do know, she shouldn't have to run, she's safe with me, she can rest her tired legs with me.

"Whatever we're running from, let's bury it between the pages of this story. What's buried, stays buried, right?" I open the book, letting it fall to a random page as Alice sits up.

She stares, her eyes intense as they search my own, she's seeking - does she find herself in me like I find myself in her?

Well, she must find something because her lips pull upwards, slow almost cautious. "Right, what's buried, stays buried." Closing her eyes, she rests her hands on the words of the page and I follow her lead, hoping to God, there's actual magic in her touch.

-

After the burial, Alice found a collection of poems encased in a small bright yellow book that made her heart smile – making good on my promise, I bought the book and we're through the door.

Her hand finds mine, her fingers lace through my own.

A bewitching connection or a need to hold on to each other? Maybe just a whimsical wish for both.

The walk back to Alice's apartment is disrupted by one, two, three and approaching four drops of water. "Oh man, it's going to rain. Do you want to get a taxi or risk a quick run?" I ask as the light drizzle begins.

Alice tucks her book into the inside of her shirt, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes, closely rivalled by the daring simper that appears on her lips.

Oddly Alice decides to plop down on the sidewalk. "Neither, I want my moment."

Confusion is the most obvious emotion but curiosity races to the front of the line. "Your what?" I question even as the raindrops begin to grow in length and width.

She gapes, the ever-present Alice Carter dramatics in full swing as she stares up at me in awe. "My moment Johnathon, my greatest chapter, the best movie scene, the climax of the play, my moment in the rain with the guy that makes butterflies swarm my tummy."

I'm dazzled and happy, laughter roaring from the base of my stomach as I look at my something more, the most beautiful girl in the world. "Baby, this is how people get sick. It's just a movie thing, I don't even think its real rain." I say with no urgency as the once light drizzle moves to a downpour.

"I don't care! I've never had it, I want it and I can't imagine it being with anyone else but you, love bug." She states in a rather sing-song voice, her wet curls shrinking as they lay flatly against her face.

I swear I can hear the prettiest love songs ringing in my ears; spellbinding, sweet melodies of kissing in the rain with your Cherie Amour.

It is for that reason I end up sitting on the sidewalk, in what feels like a rainstorm, my lips pressed to the most stunning enchantress, my own heaven on earth, all I'd ever need, Alice Carter.