Goodbye

It was my turn to give a speech. A few tears fell as I stood up at the the podium, and I began.

"Violet Hailey Monroe has been my best friend since first grade. I remember the first time I met her. She came up to me, said 'We're best friends,' and then she just walked away," I heard a few people chuckle, "All through elementary school, we had so much fun. Like one time in fourth grade, it was Henry Water's birthday, and Vi and I came in late from lunch. Well, Henry gave outrootbeer to everyone, including the teacher, in glass bottles. When Vi and I came into the classroom, we saw everyone drinking from what looked like beer bottles, and of course we couldn't see the labels. So Vi yells out, 'Mr. Warner! Mr. Warner! Come quick!' Mr. Warner was the Vice-Principal, and our class was right next to the principal's office. Mr. Warner comes running out,and ask Vi, 'What's wrong?' Vi points into the classroom and says, 'Everyone is drinking beer!' Mr. Warner sticks his head inside the classroom, and when his head comes out, he says, 'Violet, those are rootbeer bottles.' Then he walks away, and Vi smacks herself on the forehead. As we walk into the classroom, I swear I hear her mutter something like, 'The word beer is in the name.'" People chuckled as I took a pause. Then I turned to look at Violet. "Goodbye Violet. I love you, and I'll miss you."

I ran away from the podium, tears hitting the pavement hard. I collapsed next to my car, my tears constricting my airways. Warm arms wrapped around me, and I sobbed inton the chest of whoever it was.

"Abbs?" asked an unfamiliar voice, "Are you okay?"

I looked up, and there he was. Vincent Hall. He looked the same, yet different. He still had black hair and blue eyes. Vincent used to be a scrawny kid with Harry Potter-glasses and acne. His hair had been short, his skin pale, and he had been the epitome of nerd. But I had been his friend. That was before he left at the beginning of sixth grade.

Now here he was, six years later, a few days before senior year began. His hair was shaggy (in a good way), and his eyes seemed to be staring straight into my soul. His glasses were gone, as was his acne. His skin was tanned, and I felt a six-pack through his shirt. He was now the drool-worthy epitome of hottness.

"Abbs?" he asked again. God, even his voice was hot! It was silky, like honey, but still manly. I inhaled, and was assaulted by his scent. His smell was rugged yet pleasent. It was a scent no cologne could capture. It was pine, sun and leather. OMFG! His scent was even hot!

"Abbs?" he asked for the third time. I choked back another sob as I remembered where I was.

"I'll live. I can't be okay, though, if my best friend is dead, can I?"

"True."

"So, why are you here?"

"Well, I saw you run out of the church, and I figured..." I interrupted him.

"Not that, although I appreciate it," I swear I heard him mutter 'Anytime.' Okay, I'm hot (according to the guys at school, but there were still girls hotter than me. "Why are you at Violet's funeral?"

"I just moved back, and I was invited..." he trailed off.

"You moved back?" I asked, "Why?"

"My mom got transferred back here for her work. I cam with her."

My heart began beating fater as I stared at his highly-kissable lips. I slid up to kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck. And suddenly, I could feel his quickening heartbeat against my breast. The mood was dead.