I want to write everything down because I don’t want to forget the things that have happened.

I don’t want to forget what’s happened because you were my first, for a lot of things. And I don’t want to forget the confusion, the excitement, the nervousness, the doubt, the fear that I had, even if all of it makes me mad now, because you were a story that was never supposed to happen.

Flashback to three months ago, when I tweeted about Snapchat and you added me shortly after. I was surprised, considering our history. And because it felt like enough time had passed since that year of embarrassment and another year of unexplored possibilities, I decided I’d initiate something.

When you posted on your story a video of you and your little brother, I sent a snap back telling you that he was cute. You responded with gratitude, and before I knew it we were having a conversation. A day turned into a week. We talked about how much you hated hummus. I told you that you should at least try it. It was all unimportant things, but it was so very strange, considering that these meaningless conversations were happening with you, of all people.

And then you suggested that we hang out. How could I forget my surprise? And how could I forget the unbounded bravery I felt when I said “I’m down” and you responded with a “Hurry up and get better, then!” because I was sick, and that was apparently the only thing holding us back?

After I got better, I asked you when we were hanging out. At that time Jurassic Park had just come out, and I expressed interest in watching that movie, asking you if you had seen it yet (you hadn’t) and if you wanted to (you did). You gave me your number through Snapchat, and I felt like we were getting somewhere. You then invited me to watch Entourage with a group of your friends that same night we were trying to make plans, but I hesitated because 1) I had an early morning the next day and 2) considering we had never hung out whatsoever, I wanted it to be just me and you. And if it was your friends from freshman year, I didn’t want any part of that. Thankfully we made plans to watch Jurassic Park not two days after, which resolved that issue.

I remember not knowing what to wear or what to feel. I hadn’t seen you in nearly a year, and even then we hadn’t really had a full conversation since three years ago. We didn’t even know each other. I spent an hour trying to decide what to wear, finally settling on my favorite blue button down and leggings. You texted me and said you were on your way, and even though my roommate pointed out that he was running late, I wasn’t worried. I didn’t care about the movie as much as I cared about seeing you.

You told me you had parked by the athletic center but, me wanting you to walk to my door, I told you which apartment unit I was in. Thankfully you did come to the door. I was in my room when I heard you knock. My roommate opened the door and asked if you were looking for me, and when you said yes, I remember whispering to my other roommate “Should I walk out there? Should he come here? What should I do?” I it up and walked down the hallway, and there you were, looking more beautiful than I remembered you, and suddenly my nerves were all over the place.

“Are you sure you don’t want a donut?” I asked you as I pointed to the free box of donuts my roommates and I had gotten just a few days before.

“I’m good, thank you though,” you responded, and then we were off.

I noted that you were wearing cologne. I also noted that you had styled your hair. We walked to your white truck together, and I started blabbering about food. God, I was talking so much. But you listened. And you talked, too, mentioned when you saw me at that music event last year, complimenting me and surprising me by even remembering that. It must have been legitimate, then – you liking me a year ago. And what of you liking me now?

As you drove, I remember taking in every detail. How you looked good in that black t-shirt and jeans.  How your beautiful light green eyes were such a stunning contrast to your tan skin. How your arm looked when you reached over and turned the steering wheel. How you’d turn your entire face towards me when I talked, as if I was worthy of that much attention. How I had no idea what to feel or think.

We arrived at the theater, and for me, that was the determining factor. Were you going to pay? Were we going dutch? But you walked forward, asked for two tickets, and gave him your cash. I remember thinking “just friends” don’t do that. Especially people who had never hung out one on one before.

You even asked if I wanted to eat anything, but I said no. I asked you if you wanted to eat anything, too (a stupid question, considering you had just mentioned that you already ate), and of course you answered no. I had you choose where we would sit in the theater since I was being indecisive, and not a minute after we sat down, the movie played.

You laughed when I said I had to put my glasses on whenever I watched movies in theater. (Honestly, it wasn’t a necessity considering we were close to the screen, but I wanted to see if you’d make a comment.) Throughout the movie, you and I exchanged comments, and it was easy and fun. And every time I turned around to look at you, I was reminded of just how beautiful you were. And how you were looking straight at me. And how you thought I was hilarious, and you’d cover your laughs with a fist, as though you were embarrassed to find my jokes funny.

The movie ended, and since we were both hungry, we decided to eat somewhere. It was nearly 11pm at this point. Since I, yet again, couldn’t make a decision (and you generalized that every girl was like that, making me feel protective about my individuality), you drove us to eat at Chili’s, a restaurant that was ten minutes from closing.

I had hoped we would go eat afterwards, because I wanted more time to talk to you and get to know you. And that’s what we did, and I was so happy. We talked about your passions and I talked about mine. We talked briefly about family. I remember coming back from the bathroom and you were already looking for me. I remember how enchanted I’d be when you smiled, and how dangerous that was. You mentioned we should get sushi sometime. You paid for my meal, too, and I remember thinking that maybe I should have offered to pay for my own. Then you drove me back, and I accidentally closed the door to your truck while you were talking, and we awkwardly laughed about it.

You texted me not a minute after I got back and told me that you had fun and that we should hang out again, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe because suddenly doors were opening, doors I had prayed would open a thousand times back in freshman year and never did.

The second time we hung out, I had told you I would be back on campus by 9 but, due to my not having a car and having to rely on other people, I didn’t get back til 10. You said you were okay with it, and that you were just cleaning your room anyway, so you didn’t mind. It had been a full week since the movie at this point, and we had talked through text or snapchat every day. We were supposed to get ice cream, but since we were both tired, I invited you to come over to my apartment instead.

You brought your best friend, which was fine with me since I hadn’t seen him in a while. I thought it was funny that I acknowledged your friend with a hug but didn’t give you one at all, but I didn’t think we were at that point in our relationship yet. You both made a comment about how all I ever ate was an eggs and avocado sandwich, and I reasoned that it was convenient.

For three hours we sat and talked as the TV played. We caught up on each other’s lives and talked about horror films, TV shows, and childhood memories. I had a test the next day that I hadn’t studied for, and even though you kindly offered to leave, I told you it was going to be an easy test (it wasn’t). I wanted you to stay, even though I could see the tiredness in your friend’s eyes. Finally, you both left at 1am, and I was grateful for an opportunity to have talked to both of you.

The third time we hung out, you had just finished soccer practice and had invited me to eat dinner with your teammates. Plans fell through, however, and you invited me to go to a taco shop. At first I thought it was going to be just me and you again, but when you picked me up at the door you mentioned that your best friend was coming, too. Which was fine with me, honestly.

You didn’t pay for my meal this time, which was a detail I didn’t complain about because we went as a group of friends, anyway. We sat outside. Your friend asked me if I had ever had a boyfriend before, and when I answered no, you expressed surprise. (You looked really good that night, by the way. You dressed up, didn’t you? There’s no way you could look like that right after soccer practice.)

You let me have a taste of your margarita even though I definitely wasn’t legal yet. You teased that the waiter had a crush on your friend because she wouldn’t tear her eyes off him when they talked. When we went back to campus, you both let me play my music in your car, and I was able to share my music tastes with you.

That night you texted me that you had a lot of fun with me, a text I didn’t expect since we had just gone as friends. By this point I didn’t know what we were. Were we just friends? We hung out as friends, but some of your texts and the things you would do seemed to imply otherwise.

The fourth time we hung out, I brought up getting ice cream again. You had just finished practice that night, too, and even though the ice cream place I wanted to go to was going to close soon, I didn’t rush you. When you asked me where I wanted to go and I said I wanted gelato, I made a point of telling you that I was being decisive for once.

We arrived at the gelato place exactly one minute after they closed. Thankfully there was a frozen yogurt place down the street, so we walked to it. I told you I would pay for the both of us, and when you refused and said I couldn’t because I was the girl, I reasoned that fine, I’d just pay for my own then. So we went dutch, and we sat inside, and we talked about our rebellious streaks in high school until the store closed and they kicked us out.

As we walked back towards the car, we “bumped” into each other several times. I hadn’t really flirted with you physically yet, and I wasn’t sure I was doing it right, but it felt damn good. And the way you looked at me when you smiled and the wind was combing your hair in a wacky style was an image that will forever remain in my mind.

You got lost on your way back to campus, and honestly I think that was just an excuse to stay with me longer. You parked the car this time and walked me up to my apartment, and when I said goodbye and you stood there as though you were waiting for something, I gave you a hug. I couldn’t look at you after, I was so embarrassed. That night I texted you that I had fun getting to know you, and you texted back saying you couldn’t wait to teach me soccer. It was all so surreal. And it was too good to be true.

The day after, my roommates sent a text on my behalf in an effort to help me define the relationship. I expressed my concern – I had no idea what we were. When you asked me when I was free again, my roommate forced me to send a text that asked whether we should make it a date, or just a hang out. I was mad at her until you responded that yes, we should make it a date; and then after that, I couldn’t stop thinking about how that was the first time I had ever put myself out there like that.

There was one day where we didn’t text each other, odd considering we had talked every day, but I didn’t think about it. That is, until nearly a week had passed and we hadn’t talked about the “date” since. I later found out that I wasn’t getting your text messages, and I was pretty frustrated about that because I had allowed myself to jump to conclusions. We had only missed a day of conversation and I was already beating myself up for falling for a fluke.

No matter. You asked if I was free Friday night, and I said yes. You told me that you had to coach a quick soccer game after and if I wanted to come and, since it sounded like you wanted to continue hanging out with me, I said yes.

You probably didn’t know this, but I had no idea what to wear. I wanted to look good on a casual date, but appropriate for an indoor soccer field. I finally settled on an off-the shoulder top which I had never worn before and jean shorts. When you arrived at my door, the first thing I said was that it was so freaking hot. I took in your red t-shirt and jeans and decided my outfit was appropriate.

You drove us to a sushi place in your new car, which made me happy because you were being consistent in your suggestions. You asked if I wanted hibachi or sushi, and since I couldn’t give an answer, you chose sushi.

It was kind of awkward at first but eventually it was a lot more relaxed. We shared the salmon sushi you ordered, and we each got our own entrees. I asked you to tell me everything you knew about soccer, and in turn you had me tell you everything I knew about my own passions. It was awesome.

We then went to the location of the game you would be coaching. I remember feeling so fascinated and so out of place at the same time. I didn’t know anything about your world. I watched you and admired the way you fit right in, talking with the parents and playing with the kids like you could do it a million times and never get tired. But you never once gave me room to feel uncomfortable. “You can stand over here so you aren’t by yourself”, you’d say. Or “Come here with me.” I felt taken care for. I felt protected. When at one point, I got pushed back by a crowd of middle school boys and you turned around to see where I had gone, you gave me the most amused grin and stopped to wait for me to catch up.

I met your brothers, and your sister, and your mom, factors I had not expected. You let me stand with your team, a privilege I respected. The game was short, like you promised, but I enjoyed every minute of it. You bumped against me several times, asking me if I was taking notes, and you laughed when I danced to the music. I wasn’t afraid to hold your gaze anymore. I could do it a million times if you asked. I wanted the nearness of you to last forever. I wanted to hold your hand and engrain your fingerprints onto my palm.

The game ended, and we passed by your house to pick up your soccer cleats. You showed me around briefly, and then we were on our way back. I didn’t want the night to end, so I suggested that we watch Kingsman. When we arrived at my apartment, I briefly taught you guitar, an absurd notion considering I only knew four chords. We were a mile apart on that couch, although by the time the movie ended our shoulders were leaning against each other. I remember noticing that you were texting someone called “Carlie and Bae”. I don’t know why, but it set my stomach at unease, even though I knew that was a mutual friend of you and your best friend.

The movie ended, and since I was being awkward, I didn’t give you a hug when you left but retreated into the kitchen – even though I definitely noticed you idling by the door, waiting for something. You texted me after and told me how much fun you had on our first date, and I assumed by your choice of words that there would be many more.

That week I told you that if you took me grocery shopping, I would cook for you. I introduced you to my favorite grocery store, and I honestly had so much fun grocery shopping with you, even though you weren’t as interested in food as much as I was. You bought drinks for us and dessert. You even tried to subtly ask me what kind of snack I wanted (“if you had to choose any of these, which would it be?”) and since I knew what you were asking, I avoided the question like the scared girl I am. When we checked out, you offered to pay for the ingredients I would use to make dinner. That surprised me, honestly, and when I questioned you, you insisted. Fine, I said. I won’t mention it anymore. But I did mention how grateful I was.

We went back to my apartment, and I started cooking. You helped me by peeling the carrots and picking out the “happy lettuce” leaves. You opened the packet of brown sugar and successfully packed it into a small container. My music was playing, and I let you DJ while I cooked. Your mom called at one point, and when you told her that I was cooking dinner for you, she apparently expressed surprise that I could cook.

You told me that what I made was delicious, and you ate a lot and you ate fast. Afterwards, you told me that I should teach you piano, so we went to the practice rooms and stayed there for a bit. You made me play a few songs, and then for thirty minutes we just sat there and talked about our regrets and our dreams.

We went back to the apartment, and I turned the music back to my favorite playlist as I worked on making pazookies for us. We sat on the couch and ate the pazookies. I don’t know how it happened, but my leg had hooked itself over yours and suddenly my head was against your shoulder. The music was still quietly playing in the background. At this point it was almost 1am and I wanted you to stay. So I pretended to fall asleep. I felt your chin rest on my head briefly. I also felt your fingers briefly my arm. One of the last songs that played on my laptop before it died was Stay With Me by Sam Smith, and I would have laughed at how accurate the situation was had I not been pretend-sleeping.

Eventually I pretend-woke up, and you claimed that you would fall asleep if you stayed here any longer. You told me not to fall asleep on the couch like I always seem to do, and then gave me a hug. You left, and part of me knew that something bad was coming.

I had doubts prior to this. I don’t know where these doubts came from, but part of me knew that this was going to end badly. And I talked to myself saying that I didn’t care if it was gonna end bad, I wanted it to go on as long as it could. I regret that now. I should have recognized the signs. I should have done something about it.

Two days after, I went with you to your team’s first tournament game. I felt awkward again, but you did your best not to make me feel out of place, yet again. You were being a lot more physical, too, and I wondered if it had anything to do with that night when I “fell asleep” on the couch. Three times you put your arm around me. I thought that was bold of you, considering your team and these parents and your family were there. Or maybe this was just who you were. I didn’t know.

Your team’s opponents didn’t show up, and you were mad, although you tried not to show it. We then all went out to dinner – half of the team you coach and a few parents including your mom. I could tell you were tired. We didn’t speak a lot at the table, although I did talk to your mom and the others. You teased me again that I was indecisive because I couldn’t pick a meal on the menu, and that bothered me for some reason, because I wanted to be different from any other girls you might’ve taken out to dinner.

We left early. You came up to my apartment because you had to pick up your groceries that you had left the other day, and then we hugged. On our way back I had suggested we hang out tomorrow, too, after your games, since I wasn’t going to be doing anything. You said you were just about to suggest the same thing, and that you would see me tomorrow.

Your team lost both games that day. I didn’t know how to console you since you were a competitive person, but I did still want to hang out with you. You said you were tired and asked if it was okay that we just watch Netflix, and I said I knew you were tired and that was completely fine with me. You told me I was the best. I told you to just walk in. When you arrived, I was already seated on my couch watching Batman with a blanket over my knees.

When I made dinner and complained I had no food in the fridge, you asked me why I didn’t tell you. You would have gotten me dinner, you said. I don’t know why that surprised me, but I just said that I didn’t know you had gone out to eat.

Since I was getting bored of Batman and since your Netflix wasn’t working, we chose a lame movie from my roommates’ collection. This time, I consciously hooked my leg over yours. And as time passed, both of my legs were hooked over yours. And it felt good. Even when you got up to go to the restroom and sat back down, we went right back to our initial positions. It was comfortable and easy.

That movie ended at around 11pm, and I the TV to see if we could find anything else to watch. I found Hitch, and I remember thinking how convenient it was that I had found a romantic comedy. At this point you were lying down on the couch, and I was sitting next to you with my elbows propped against you.

Somehow I found the courage to lie down next to you, and you accommodated me. At first my head was on your chest and my neck hurt because the position was uncomfortable, but I liked being next to you too much to move. I did mention that I was going to break my neck if you didn’t change positions, though, so you adjusted your position and suddenly there we were, completely parallel, my head resting against the base of your neck, your left arm hooked over my body.

I had never done this with a guy before. Did you know that? All we were doing was cuddling but my heart was on fire. And I could hear your heart, too, the way it was beating against your ribcage. My arm was hooked over your chest and I felt how strong it was. When I laughed, I looked up to you and was fully aware of how my breath curled up your neck. I played with the collar of your shirt. In a few minutes’ time, you started playing with my hair and lightly my arm. I asked you what cologne you used, and when you asked me why I was curious, I murmured against your chest that it smelled good.

I don’t think my heart had ever beat faster than at that moment. And I knew that you were going to kiss me that night. I had sensed it, the past few times we had hung out, that you had wanted to – but each time I looked away. But I knew, that night, when I made a comment and you looked down at me and your eyes immediately landed on my lips, that you were going to do it. And I wasn’t going to back away this time.

The movie ended and the credits had barely started rolling when you turned around and kissed me. It wasn’t hard, considering how close we already were. I panicked, though. I had never been kissed before. My eyes were open the first few seconds because I had no idea what to do and my mind was a mess. You were moving slowly, and since the only way I knew how to kiss was from watching movies, I shut my eyes and bit your lip.

You started moving, harder than I expected you to, and a surge of excitement waved through me. You moved me, and suddenly you were above me and you were kissing me rougher. I still had no idea what I was doing, but I followed your lead. You bit my lip, too, and I am certain I explored my mouth as much as you did mine. It wasn’t gross, or weird. I just felt lost.

At one point we were sitting up. You stopped briefly to rip the blankets away from our legs, and I wanted to laugh at how unnecessarily rough of an action that was. I tried to match every move you made. You maneuvered me so easily, and I wondered if you had done this a million times. It made me sad.

I was on top of you now, and enough time had passed that I began to wonder if this was how first kisses normally go. Was it just me, or were we not stopping? I felt that I was starting to smell like you. Your taste was not your own, anymore; it was mine, too. Now you were back on top of me, and my hand found yours, and for a sweet moment they were intertwined. Your hand then cupped my face, and I felt myself melting away. Your kisses slowed down, and they were tender and sure again, moving to the side of my mouth and then briefly to my neck. You moved my hand so that it was tangled in your hair. Your own hand was roaming up and down my leg, making me shiver. Our kisses slowed, slowed, slowed – and then finally, after you left a feather-light kiss on my forehead, it ended.

And then we were right back where we were with my head on your chest. For about ten minutes we watched the TV in silence, as though nothing had happened. And then you said you had better get going, and I begrudgingly let you go.

You gave me a hug before you left, and then you leaned down to kiss me again. I felt more confident this time. Your hand held my face yet again. And it was the sweetest of kisses. You paused, kissed me one last time, and murmured, “Okay. Bye.”

I watched you walk out that door. And I haven’t seen you since.

We texted the day after and I thought everything was okay. But then you didn’t respond when I suggested we go somewhere together. When I sent you a snapchat two days after and tried to initiate the topic again, you didn’t respond. And when two days after I sent you a text just to ask what you had been up to and we exchanged a few words, you stopped responding to that, too.

A week passed and we didn’t talk. But I knew you were still present. You were watching my snapchats, favoriting my tweets. I didn’t understand what was happening. And then one day I woke up at 1am to see that you had time to post a picture of a girl in your story, and there was so much anger in me I couldn’t control myself.

I went for a walk and found myself at your apartment. I didn’t do anything, but I was so angry. I returned to my apartment, and for two hours I vented to three different friends. And then a friend came to visit me, and I vented to him, too, until it was 5am. I wasn’t even sleepy anymore. I was just angry and hurt and sad and frustrated. I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t respond to my texts. I didn’t understand why you thought it was okay to pop in my life every now and then but ignore me when I tried to make sense of it all.

That night you kissed me, I thought about telling you that it was my first time. I’m so glad for the hesitation that had held me back from that confession.

It’s been two weeks now. A few days ago I asked you what you had been up to, and although you responded, you were making excuses. When I asked you for clarification and where we stood, you read my message. And you didn’t say a word.

This morning, I woke up to find a new follower on my instagram – and guess who it was? The girl that was in your snapchat. “Carlie and Bae.” And not thirteen hours ago, she had posted a photo of you and her together at a wedding. Her arm, wrapped tightly around your chest like mine had been. Your hand, wrapped around her shoulders like you had done with mine.

I have no idea if you were a player all along, or if you legitimately liked me and then decided it wasn’t going to work. Part of me wishes you were just a player. It would hurt less. But if you really liked me, and then decided it wasn’t going to work, why couldn’t you be a man about it and tell me? Why did all of that happen? And I saw it coming, too. I knew it was coming.

When we were in the practice rooms, I hesitated to show you a poem I had written last year. Back then, I hesitated because while the story in the poem was made up, I felt that it was going to be our story. I didn’t want to show it to you. I didn’t want it to become real.

But look where we are now.

“He’s like summer.

He’s that feeling you get when you ride the back of his truck with his music flying out the window

Loud noise, with a beat that reflects your heart and a guitar riff that makes you want to reach for the skies.

And he’s like summer in the way he laughs when you say something stupid, but he still looks up to you.

He’s like summer when he pulls a stray piece of dust from your hair and tells you that you need to stop smiling so much even though that’s the one thing you’ve spent hours perfecting

And he tells you he admires you because you’re as bright as the sun, and he’s the cool of the day.

He’s like summer in the way he talks; the way he comes and goes; the way he says

He never meant to stay.”