I was nineteen when I first met him. I worked part time at a small family-owned restaurant, and he came in for lunch one day. He was tall, handsome, and his deep voice caught me off guard. I remember seeing his smile for the very first time. Something in his eyes was just special. He started coming for lunch every Saturday. As I took his order, we would occasionally chat about the weather or some recent event. A gruelling month passed before he finally asked for my number.

Our first date happened late in the Summer. We went to the zoo. At the end of the day he walked me home, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I invited him into my small apartment complex, and we talked. We chatted about our likes and dislikes, and dreams and aspirations. We told each other embarrassing stories, and ate an entire tub of ice cream together. He left at three in the morning. I made sure to stay up until he texted, informing me of his safe travel home. 

He kissed me on our third date. His lips were soft and comforting, but also sent zaps of electricity through my body. He felt right. I never got used to his amazing kisses.

It took two months for us to exchange “I love you's.” I’ve said those three little words to him a countless number of times, and I’ve always said it with meaning. I loved him with all my heart.

I loved when he would gobble down my cooking even though I knew it was burnt, and definitely tasted horrible. I loved our Sunday morning cuddling sessions where I felt safe and content in his arms. I loved his corny jokes, and how easily he could make me smile. 

And I miss all those things. 

He moved away a year ago for his job. We tried to make the long distance thing work. We tried so much, but I guess the world was against us. Neither of us had time to visit each other, and video calls weren’t enough anymore. I stopped getting butterflies every time my phone went off, because I knew it wasn’t a text from him.

But one day, I got a call from a deleted number my heart will always recognize. He asked if I wanted to meet up for coffee. I wanted to say no, but I’d missed him so much. My year without him just wasn't as colourful, wasn’t as bright. I told myself I just needed to see him once. 

Today I walk into the restaurant we met in. I see his face, and I know he’s sorry. I’m sorry too. I see his smile, and I know there's hope. I know we can try again.