When I was fourteen you caught my attention. We were on our way home from school, summer vacation on the horizon. You turned to me, your thighs sticking to the fake leather seats of the bus, and smiled. It was in that moment that I knew you would change my life.
That night we ate ice cream as the sun set and played dance dance revolution in your basement. I was all red cheeks and stutters, you were freckled cheeks and laughter. I swear I could’ve fallen in love with you right then.
It wasn’t long before we were inseparable. Days were spent in your room, safe from the world hidden behind closed blinds and air conditioning. Nights were spent at my house, laying on my trampoline staring at the stars, just close enough to touch but never brave enough to.
On July 1st we watched the fireworks at the park we both grew up at, I watched your face as the colours lit up the sky and in that moment I decided you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever laid eyes on. That night you tackled me to the ground, your face just inches above mine and I swore you were going to kiss me, but you never did. If I kissed you first maybe you wouldn’t be gone now.
When I was sixteen I told you I was in love with you, and you apologized because you didn’t love me back. I’ll never forget the feeling of my lungs deflating, it was like you took my feet out from under me and suddenly I was free falling.
After that night we stopped hanging out as much. You stopped asking me to stay the night, I pretended to stop thinking about kissing you, which eventually turned into actually not thinking about kissing you. But old habits die hard and sometimes I wish I would’ve taken the chance when I had it.
On long summer days beside your pool. On cold nights when we huddled together for warmth, your legs tangled in mine. If I had kissed you would you have kissed me back? If I never mistook your kindness for love would you still be mine to adore?