13 years old, the back of a haunted hay-ride pick-up truck, wearing a bright yellow bee costume. He grabbed my hand like it was going to break, but my heart was whirring like a jackhammer because he had nice eyes and played guitar.

We talked shyly all day, and I remember each passing glance as we both tried to pretend we weren't looking at the other.

Evidently we pretended a little too much, because it was Katie he ended up kissing in the pumpkin patch that night. Not me.

That was the end of our love story.