I don't know how if feels for people when they find their soul-mate, but for me I knew the moment I first laid eyes on her. I saw her and immediately felt this overwhelming sense of protection and possession.

Maybe I was crazy; or maybe these were the first signs of a troubled mind or some dumb like that. But man, the way my heart felt around her and the way my nerves were on edge—all of my senses hyper-aware of her presence—it was unmistakable that this was something real. A deeper connection than I had ever felt for anyone, ever.

In short, I had always been the definition of a boy. I never believed that I would ever find someone that I could possibly connect with spiritually, or emotionally, or anything like that; and when I moved to the small seaside town of Arcadia about three years ago, the last thing I ever expected was to find just that.

I remember when I finally finished unpacking and organizing everything in my room that day when we first moved in. I was about to close my window when I saw her standing in her room right across from mine. She must of not noticed someone moved in next door, because her curtains were wide open as she stood there in a sports bra and a pair of short shorts. She was glancing at herself in the mirror, studying her reflection from every possible angle. I tried not to look at her, but I kept watching, as if in some type of daze. 

She was stunning. Probably the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and yet it felt like she had no clue how beautiful she was. She grabbed at certain parts of her body, specifically the skin around her thighs, her middle, and her face, as if inspecting it carefully. She had a great figure, and it made me wonder if maybe someone made her think otherwise.

I probably looked like one hell of a creep, but I couldn't tear myself away from her. She turned around before I could look away and in that moment I caught the look in her eyes. She head tears streaming down the sides of her face, eyes red and swollen, nose and cheeks blotchy from wear she rubbed at them with the back of her hands—a heartbreakingly beautiful image.

My God, she was breathtaking and I was captivated.

She caught my eye from across and stared at me for a few moments—dark orbs drowning me in their depths—and then she did the most unexpected thing: she smiled.  It was very smell, almost faint, but polite nonetheless regardless of the fact that she had just caught me creeepily staring in at her room. Caught completely off guard my heart quaked in my chest, my hands trembled and it felt almost too hard to breathe. She moved towards the window and slowly closed the curtains. That was my first interaction with Min.

The next day I managed to catch her name. unfortunately it was when I saw some guy call out to her from his car in front of her yard.

I can't deny it was upsetting, and maybe ti pissed me off a little more than it actually should have, but there was something about this girl that had me drawn like never before.

Two days later school started. It was my Sophomore year and I was pleasantly surprised to learn during Sophomore Orientation that she was, too. Unfortunately, sitting right beside her was the guy I had seen her with, implying that he was also in the same class as us. I watched her carefully, scrutinizing her every move to the detail. She didn't look comfortable at all. And like two days prior, she catches me looking right at her. I don't even bother looking away, because what's the use? I see the look of recognition in her eyes and she gives me a shy smile before looking ahead again.

Months pass and we stay like this, running into one another in the halls and even sharing a class together, but we never talk. I never formally introduces myself and she doesn't either. I realize early on why, though. She's closed off and doesn't seem to have many friends—if none at all—and the only person she has is her boyfriend, who I eventually learn is named Kikwang.

I don't ing like him. At all.

I hear the in the halls, and the talk in the locker room and I grow an ever-present dislike for the guy—persistently nagging at me to bust his skull in. But I resist temptation. Damn, do I resist.

When I hear him ridicule her in the halls with his buddies, I resist. When I see him flirting with other girls, I resist. When I hear the way he talks to her or see the way he treats her, I resist. And although it seems like a piece-of- thing to do, I know that I can't get involved. The last thing I want is for her to be with this , but if I want her for myself, which I eventually will, I need her to be the one to see him for what he rea