There was this boy when I was thirteen. He was as bright as any other bright creature. The Lord only knows how much he must have meant to a young girl, to me.

Kent and I, we knew each other from a past I'd forgotten about when I was still in the Philippines. We weren't close then. We barely knew each other's name but he looked for me. That was amazing.

“Close your eyes and imagine drifting,” he said once to me. He had a cool set of hands; I felt them as he cupped my face. He was fourteen.

It was a summer’s day in California, the sun glaring down and the heat consuming my every energy as it always does. No one would think I was a tropical-island-born child with the way I despised sunny days. Everything felt disgustingly hot and bright that day.

So, I closed my eyes, putting my trust in this boy I’d known for a short time. 

He said in a low voice, “Imagine yourself surrounded by white birch trees, their leaves completely gone. Do you see the birds flocking away as winter crawls in? There’s a breeze; it’s a soft tickle. The trees brace themselves as the wind grows stronger by the second.” He blew into my face. I clicked my tongue but kept my eyes shut tight. “Stay with me,” he laughed. I could feel his body shake through the strumming of his fingers on my face. “You can’t see the sun and the sun can’t reach you. The sky is a relaxing shade of blue.”

The rest of the world disappeared. We were in the middle of a forest of birches where the snow has started to fall and summer has retreated completely. Birds flapped away their wings, trying to escape while we waited for the coming of a great storm. The air was suddenly ten degrees cooler. I can feel it, the wind brushing against my skin, tickling me. A smile crept onto my face as I felt my body reject the heat of reality.

“Where are you now?” He broke my trance, not at all regretful.

“Well, you ruined it. I was in a very cold place.”

He gave me a half-smile and ran his fingers through his hair. That thing that he does with his hair, I picked it up.

“Georgie,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Thank you.”

I smiled in return.

With Kent Seddon, all rules didn’t apply. I was simply Georgie and not Georgiana Mendoza. To him, I told my biggest worries and in return, he welcomed me into his life. I was his white rose. I paused for a long time, just staring at a nearly dead white rose. I broke it off, sending the resident quiet girl, Abigail, into a frenzy.

“What was that for!” She squealed.

“It already had a death sentence.”

She froze. Her eyes flickering from me to the flower as she watched my eyes dilate. Why did she always take so long to say something? “Did he hurt you?” She finally asked, unsure if she'd crossed a line.

“Not intentionally but then again, not everyone goes out of their way to hurt others. Kent and I were very good friends.” I say this with a warm smile. “That’s all we were, good friends. As hurt as I was, I think he was too.”

He was the boy I could pour my heart to until I couldn't.