2 How we first met

"Hello? Could I borrow your umbrella?"

Lifting my eyes up from my book, I looked at the girl asking the question.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Flowing fair hair, large sparkling eyes, full lips, and perfect skin. I couldn't say she looked like the perfect girl, as I'd never met one. What I could say was that she looked like someone I'd never have a chance with, not in a million years.

"Uh, why?" was all I could manage while I wait for my brain to reboot.

"Um... I mean, when you leave the library, can I walk with you to the gate? With the umbrella?"

I looked outside the library window. I had my umbrella with me because the weather forecast said it might rain. The sky was overcast, but there was no risk of rain either. What did she need the umbrella for?

Regardless, it seemed an innocuous enough request, so there was no reason to turn her down.

"Sure." I shrugged and replied. She visibly relaxed.

"Really? Thank you!"

"When do you need to leave? I can walk you out if you want."

"Oh, no. You can finish what you're doing. I'd hate to impose on you!"

"No, it's alright. I was about to leave anyway."

"Okay, then I'll get my stuff over there. Could you wait for me at the front door?"

"Sure. I'm Owen, by the way." I said, holding out my hand. I did my best to keep my eyes from drifting down and maintained eye contact with her. And I'd done well so far. Good job, Owen.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm Chloe." She said, hastily shaking my hand. Her skin was smooth and cool.

She turned back to her table, at which point I allowed myself to check out her figure. Which was, unfortunately, completely covered up in a large gray coat and a pair of baggy gray pants. Then she turned around and caught me staring. I hastily looked away and began collecting my stuff. Good job, Owen.

I returned the book to the shelf and went to the reception desk and killed time by playing with my phone.

"Hey, I'm ready. Thanks for helping me!"

I turned around. She had doubled down on the "hide the cutie" costuming style. Half her face was covered with a mouth mask. She was fiddling with a large pair of sunglasses. I noticed she was wearing gloves. Finally, she topped it off with a large brimmed hat.

As I was internally debating whether to say anything, she explained.

"I have this... condition. I'm really sensitive to sunlight."

That sounded kind of plausible, though I was automatically developing my own theories. She might be a celebrity. Or some rich guy's daughter. However, in that case, she couldn't have picked a more conspicuous way to dress. So she was probably telling the truth.

Shrugging, I walked outside the library and opened the umbrella. She carefully stayed in its shadow and we slowly made our way to the main gate.

On the way, we both awkwardly tried to make small talks. I didn't remember a word of that conversation. I only remembered getting lost in her melodic voice, and appreciating her graceful movement on my peripheral vision.

All of a sudden, an unusually strong gust of wind blew toward us, snatching away both my umbrella and her hat.

She let out a surprisingly cute yelp and ran after her hat. Startled, I reflexively run after her, I mean, my umbrella. She just happened to be in the same direction.

Man, this girl could MOVE. I mean, I was no couch potato. I jogged frequently, and my work required a certain degree of physical strength and stamina. But this girl just left me in the dust. In a blink of an eye, she caught up with the hat and the umbrella. With surprising dexterity, she snatched both of them out of the air, put on the hat and held up the umbrella. Pausing for a moment to compose herself, she turned around and walked toward me. I slowed down to a walk as well.

"She could be an athlete or a ballet dancer." My list of possible backgrounds for her kept growing. "Or an actress. With that face, that body, that athleticism, I bet everyone will scramble to see whatever she's in."

"Sorry… " She said, her voice perfectly level. Her hand brushed errant strands of hair from her face. "I was startled."

"It's okay. So was I. What a strange wind!"

At the gate, she pointed at a car parked in the shade of a large tree. "That's my ride. Do you need a lift?"

I took a moment to appraise the car. "Damn!" I sighed internally. I was no car expert. But, from the perspective of a former art student, that vehicle was as close as can be to a work of art on wheels.

"No, I'm good. My bus stop's right over there." Let's not get carried away. She was probably just asking out of politeness.

"Thank you very much, Owen." She said with a small bow. "I hope we'll see each other again."

She approached the car, waved at me, opened the door and got on. The engine hummed to life and the vehicle smoothly rolled away.

"I bet my left foot I'll never see her again." I shrugged and began walking to the bus station.

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