It all started fifteen years ago with a Coke in the back of the church van. My best friend hadn’t come, so I sat next to a boy. I had known him for months and admired him from afar because he seemed so much better at everything than me. So when he asked me to sit next to him, what was a girl to do? And when there weren’t enough cans of Coke for everyone… well, what did it matter if we shared one? He was cute. And I liked that smile dotted with turquoise braces. And, as I noted in my diary, I figured it was the beginning of a nice friendship.
Fifteen years later, we’re still together and shared a Coke in honor of that afternoon in the van. I wonder if my eleven-year-old self could have imagined spending the day running around the city with him then dressing up for a nerdy symphony in the evening. Or that, after noticing it in my diary a few years later, we would quietly acknowledge it thereafter and purposely choose a nearby wedding date.
No, she was more concerned with her mild butterflies and his freckles and how happy they were smiling at each other in the back of the van.