The first time I met you, I was thirteen, pimply, gangly – not exactly your definition of drop-dead gorgeous with my thick glasses and posture braces that made me look like I was wearing football pads underneath my shirt.
I wasn't one of the cool kids. But I was smart. Plus I hung out with Alexander and Nickolai who were the girls' of my school's definition of dreamy.
I remember it was summer; a blistering hot Saturday afternoon and my mother and I just had a row over my haircut. I had wanted a haircut similar to Alex's but Mom insisted on a bowl haircut, which made me look like I was wearing a World War II helmet over my head.
"Kuya, pabiling yosi," I had nervously told the street vendor who frowned suspiciously at me. "I-inutos lang po sa akin," I had lied handing him a fifty-peso bill.
"Ang bata-bata mo pa, Totoy. Nakakasama sa'yo 'to," the cigarette vendor had said and I had frowned at him.
"Inu...tos nga lang po...po sa akin," I had insisted even as I stuttered.
"Mga kabataan talaga ngayon..."
"May...may...lighter po ba kayo? Ang sabi...po kasi ng kaibigan—I...mean Tito ko na sindihan na."
"'Ayan 'yung posporo. Marunong ka bang magsindi?" the vendor had teased laughing.
I had not bothered to wait for my change and just sprinted to a nearby park after lighting that cigarette. I remember feeling victorious that I had one-upped an adult. Yes, I was shallow and silly.
Looking back, the idea of puffing on a cigarette stick at three in the afternoon and nearly choking to death because I didn't know how to smoke wasn't so brilliant. But that was me at thirteen – stupid, clumsy, and your typical nerd.
I would have preferred that you met me at a time when I was doing something cool like maybe driving my own Ferrari but instead, you came at a time when I was grasping for air just to stay alive. Still, knowing you, as I do now, you wouldn't have let anyone tell you how and when you'd make your entrance.
"Nagyoyosi ka?" you – fifteen, svelte, gorgeous, and so sure of yourself – had coolly asked me – red-faced, a virgin, and about to die a pathetic death – who was clasping at the swing's chain for my dear life not noticing that you were sitting on the swing next to mine until you spoke. "Hoy!" you called out loudly.
"Tu...tu...long..." I had wheezed in reply. "I...I...can't...breathe..."
You looked at me like I was the weirdest thing you've ever seen before you gracefully stood, walked over to where I was slowly dying then hauled me to my feet.
"Yo-yosi-yosi kasi hindi naman marunong." You had clucked your tongue before alternately patting my back and then massaging my chest. "Huminga ka kasi, 'nu ba 'yan..."
You had faced me then inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly as if you were trying to teach me how to breathe properly.
"Hinga...inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale..."
And I had followed your example breathing in your scent, drowning in the melody of your voice and not minding dying right that moment if heaven was an unkempt park with you in it.
"Good..." You had smiled in approval and I remember how I had smiled in return blushing like the inexperienced idiot that I was.
It had taken more than a minute for my breathing to return to normal and during that period I had unintentionally ogled at your ample breasts, had already memorized how you smell, and had died, got revived and happily died again in the chocolate brown pools that were your eyes.
