At first I liked you because you were nice to me, but not in the clingy and desperate way. And because you would sit there quietly sometimes, and look lost in thought. And then I got to know you. And realized that I liked everything. I can remember the first time I missed you. You were going away to Iowa for most of the summer to see your mom. I sat up half the night crying, waiting, awake, hoping to hear you ride by my house.