Life

Preface

AMBER
John was perfect. His face was achingly and unapologetically beautiful. God's angels carved it; he had a mouth that was bow-like in structure, high, gentle cheekbones, bronze skin, and the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen. His eyes were mostly blue, but they had shards of every color the eye could posses, and then there was the strangest patch on his right eye that was strictly shades of brown and yellow. His eyes could easily be compared to a fire; they were warm, hypnotic, inviting; they smoldered, they danced -- but the fire wasn't only in his eyes. There was a bit of fire on his tongue, a lingering sarcasm that could be funny or caustic depending on whether it was directed at you or not. He was athletic (he was on the soccer team), and could easily out-maneuver me if not out-run me. He also had a special talent as a musician; John played the cello, like me. He could coax any instrument to sing the liveliest jig, or the most mournful lament, the darkest tune, or the most elegant waltz.
Normally, I'm not awed by anything. But I couldn't even hold John's gaze. He was the only person that intimidated me, and it's surprising, because I expected to be daunted by someone I hated, not a close friend.
I had loved John since he came to our god-forsaken school in sixth grade, though not at first sight. He was in science with me and tortured me endlessly; I used to hate him. Then, one day, I looked into his seraphic face and saw an angel there instead of the demon I once perceived him as. That was three years ago, and now he haunts me. He was an amazing person, and, though I doubted it, I wondered if he thought the same about me.

JOHN
Her fox-like eyes never failed to portray her mood. They had a dull grayish tint when she was downhearted. Whenever she was cheerful, they sparkled. They flashed green fire whenever she was annoyed, and shards of yellow radiated from the center, but no matter what, they were always some shade of green. Her eyes always smiled before the corners of her mouth turned up and a grin slowly graced her delicate face. It was her eyes that laughed before sound escaped her mouth. Her eyes blushed before she did, the shards of yellow somehow dilating before her cheeks turned pink. Her friends could foretell her moods by her eyes. They could read them and see when a sarcastic remark would escape her lips a second before it happened, and Amber always had a sarcastic remark. Her eyes were nothing less than astonishing, and it was those eyes that I fell in love with first.
She herself was as astonishing as her eyes. Her hair fell like a golden waterfall to her shoulders. Like her eyes, her hair was not one color. Blonde, silver, brunette and red mixed into a tawny bronze. Her mouth was small and delicately shaped. She was slender, with an hourglass figure. Her legs were long and willowy and allowed for quickness of foot, but it was not just her body that was swift. Should you insult her, you would be greeted instantly by a sarcastic, and also stinging comment that either left you reeling or left you confused, though most people were in the latter part because she was just so hard to keep up with.
Not only was Amber shrewd and attractive, but she could play the cello. Through natural talent and hard work she picked up rock songs without sheet music and memorized the songs. She was proud of her talents, though not to the point of arrogance, and when she was the first to beat Crista -- who had been first chair for two years straight -- she was as humble in victory as she was defeated, sitting in second. I would be more than happy to sit second to her, for the chance to bask in her happy glow.