Mine

To My One And Only Skye
==Prologue==
"May I take your order?" I glanced up from my National Geographic magazine, and smiled at the tall boy in front of me. I brushed away a strand of my blonde hair, gazing at the waiter. 
Tall, rugged, with a slightly crooked smile and freckles spotting his face in a slapdash fashion, he could have been a male model. Wearing a simple tee, he showed off effortless looking muscles. Even in an apron he looked handsome. 
"Um, just a chai tea." I said, almost at loss for words. He gave a respectful nod, followed by a smile. 
"It'll be right out." With that, he disappeared into the kitchen. I couldn't help but watch the swinging door, even after he was long gone. Something about the sparkle in his beautiful grey eyes captivated me. 
The magazine article in front of my held only the direction of my face- my eyes had been glancing out of the corner of my eye to see when the handsome waiter would return. When he did, the words seemed to catch in my throat before they spilled out of my mouth. 
"Haven't seen you around here before." I blurted out. The beautiful boy grinned at the sudden exclamation. Delicately, he set down my steaming tea. 
"Damon. I just moved here from the next town over." Damon told me. "You?"
"Taylor. Lived here my whole life." I breathed, trying not to look idiotic. 
"Is that it?" Damon gestured to the tea in front of me. 
"Um, yeah." I told him, disappointed. Obviously he had no interest in me. 
"Here's your receipt." Damon placed the receipt on the table, and walked away. 
Sighing, I studied the receipt. A scribble in the bottom right corner caught my eye. A chain of numbers, and a little note. 
"555-989-317. My shift ends at 4"
== Chapter One ==
Our romance was just like the ones you'd read about, sing about. Complete with his guitar strumming and those starlit walks by the creek. Our town was small, with more swamp than sand, weeping willows rather than palms, and not a grain of sand in sight- lest you count the crust on the old silos. 
It was rustic, but in a charming way. I had never known anything else- a celebrity was something unknown, and everybody knew if your third uncle, twice removed or not, was a drunk. But it was a way of life we were all used to. 
Damon always talked about moving out, and going to see the world. He talked about the Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal, as if he had seen more to them then what we saw in National Geographic. I would laugh, and quietly tap my knee like I always did when I didn't know what to say. 
We were only 17 when we met- the city boy and the small town singer. But we were together for longer than anybody anticipated. "They won't last,"
TBC
==Chapter 1==