I will never forget the first night I met him. I fell in love, and his younger brother proposed. It was quite the night.
It was Halloween; we had moved there only two months before. I went trick or treating with a new friend. He was a long time friend of hers, and I was instantly smitten. I was sure he was way out of my league (he was) but we spent a long time talking that night.
A couple of weeks later I was at my friend’s house again and there he was. I was a giggly, flirty mess, like countless 16 year olds before me. I didn’t have the courage to say anything to him, but I was annoyingly persistent in talking to my friend about *him*. She finally said “So, do you want me to tell him?”. I practically yelled “NO!”. It took me probably 20 minutes to say “yes”.
She said “good, I just wrote him a note.”.
A couple of minutes later he comes in holding the note, stammers a bit, and holds it up.
“I don’t know, what did she say?”
He handed me the note. I read it and nodded.
He promptly face planted and remained there for several minutes. My friend and I laughed, but my heart sunk further as each agonizing second ticked by. Eventually he got up, left the room for a few minutes, and came back and we all just talked for a bit. Later he called me, which became something of a regular occurrence. He asked me to a dance. We spent time together before and after class. He asked for a picture of me from when I was younger, and later returned it to me with a drawing from art class.
As first loves go, it was all rather ordinary. He was not.
He was extraordinary.