When Sage walked into a room there was no sudden silence that immobilized your limbs. This was college, and it wasn't like every cliché movie. It was worse. The room would continue humming its random mix of voices, iPods and of course, not so lulling and particularly rude air vents. Rather, everyone continued on as they were except that deep down they were all trying, (unnoticeably), to watch her. Eyes would shift and cut sentences short. I swear that once, the music skipped with her entrance only to resume with a rustic base attuned to her every step. She had this mesmerizing power over everyone it seemed -everyone but me that is. I could give two shits about Sage Carter.
I wasn't fascinated by her eerie beauty that was almost too surreal for a nineteen year old. She wasn't your typical prom-queen tight ass bitch, (though let me be the first to say, that ass was certainly tight). She was simple, with flowing blonde tufts that angled down her back and a killer ex-track star body. She was completely Irish, a creamy pale with faint freckles that accentuated her glimmering brown eyes. Maybe I'm lying; there's definitely an uncontrollable need to just stare at her whenever she comes around because for whatever reason, she doesn't act like she's that great. There's just something about her that sucks you in and locks you to her without you even realizing it. Due to this, Sage Carter is almost like a god around here, but one that no one would ever openly admit to worshipping. Instead, people just stare over magazines and whisper rude remarks because they're afraid. Afraid of what someone so fascinating is hiding.
No one knows her really; she eats alone and studies at cubicles. She dated a Junior once, or so I heard, but rumor has it he doesn't go here anymore. So why do I feel the need to rant to you about this random girl? Quite plainly, I'm just as addicted as everyone else, (but don't you dare tell). She's a spectacle of sorts, but I actually have a reason to eye her up like she's some rare piece of art you'd typically only see in magazines and textbooks. Last weekend, Sage Carter and I fell in love.
It started in our Freshman year here at Owtamango College. The first time I saw her I had been sitting under one of the gillion trees our campus is so damn proud about, (it's cool to be eco-friendly right?), just reading some poems by Jane Mead, (who is remarkable as well, she writes a lot like me if you're ever in the mood for morbid imagery and poems that leave you feeling ashamed), and choking down a Camel Crush. I almost wondered if she was lost, the way she walked so hurriedly and yet, without a care at all. It was like she wanted to lazily dance in circles, but at 228 beats a minute, cut time. How I never noticed such a person before was completely beyond me. She was draped in a knee length dress made of argyle purples and grays that cinched her waist and hinted at her backward curves in a way that made it unfeasible for me not to stare. She looked nothing like me in my tight jeans, leather jacket and fuck off scowl.
Nonetheless, I instantly envisioned her naked and how warm and smooth she would feel and oh, how desperately I wanted to grab that ass! But then, as she finally walked past, I saw her face. The shadows that hung from her choppy bangs could not disrupt her incontestable beauty. She was gorgeous in the most unforced way possible. Her eyes were slightly sunken, but not in a drugged out I need to go to rehab way. More so, they looked as if they were accented by bruises and I couldn't imagine anything sexier. It was in that moment that I knew I would one day tie her down and we'd bite and bleed and fuck.
I recall thinking up some random poem in those following minutes, something like, "I need to hurt in order to scream, so punish me and meet my needs. Feed me pain while we fuck. Bring me down to pull me up." It was a little rusty, but definitely captured what I was thinking at the time.
She then became my obsession, or perhaps, the object of my private stalking. I searched for her wherever I went and on a few occasions I'd find her sitting in a lounge or reading some archaic book. It was then I began to notice how much attention she actually drew to herself and I was further shocked to see that she never acknowledged it. It was as if she was alone in the world, merely meandering through sceneries without ever appreciating them. I think I found her lack of care for anything most attractive.
Aw fuck. I can see my pathetic face now so intent on pursuing her, searching through her with my eyes. I wanted so desperately to know every part of her. What was it she listened to as she idly paced the corridors? What words resonated in her head as she read such peculiar books in the back corner of the library? But most of all, I wanted to know what she was thinking. She always seemed such a distractible mess, as if she wanted no part of this world, but instead was completely content in a place I've never known.
So this pattern of searching and staring continued for a few months until one Thursday night in March something sensational happened. I had been carelessly drunk, rummaging through some papers some dick left on the bench where I was sitting, when all of a sudden my heart bounded fiercely against my ribs. The night air was stale and it burned my throat as I half choked on my spit. I was beginning to freak out, and I knew from the uncanny silence that something strange was waiting to unfold. And that was when it happened.
Sage Carter was stumbling, struggling to carry a bag of books and some, (I assume heavily intoxicating), drink just across the court. I began to shake and in my drunken confidence I did something I'd never intended: I ditched my Crush and jumped, well, tried to rise quickly, to my feet. Before I could interpret what my body was doing I was halfway to her. In the few seconds I spent traveling forth my mind was plundered by maddening thoughts: "What was I doing!? What was I going to say; what if I freaked her out?" But then, as if I knew precisely what she was thinking, I joined her side and retrieved a few of her books that had just smashed to the ground.
