Is it odd to tell someone you like them after two months of knowing them?
Here's what went down.
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This is the end of this story. (End of days, end of days...)
Not the book, but the end of this part of my life.
Two days later—it was a Friday. Out the back of the library. And he told me that he saw me as a friend.
Do you know how long it took me to move on?
Three days. It took three days for me to start talking to him again, like a friend.
And this was the first time I'd ever, in my life, confessed to someone that I liked them.
I don't think our relationship got stronger through my confession, but I don't feel like some part of me died when he said he saw me as a friend.
Well, sure, I felt a bit disappointed, but I wasn't crushed. And that's such a... contrast... to the fact that I liked him that strongly before confessing. I wonder why I wasn't more upset.
Was it the inevitability of me seeing him again a few days later? We had to come back on the Monday after for our final. I even tapped him lightly on the shoulder and flashed him a thumbs-up before leaving (I had finished early).
I still remember the exact words I said to him, the tone I said them in. I had pulled him aside from my friends, a bit nervous, my voice catching in my throat. The sun had already set, and the air was really, really cold. There was no wind, though. It was just really cloudy.
I remember his verbal response, too - how could I not? It...confused me. But it was amusing. A few minutes later, when he offered his arm to link with me, I put my arm through his and then I left to catch my bus, him waving after me. I told my friends what happened, and the arm link, and one of them clapped me on the back—"Congratulations! Your first relationship!"
But I wasn't sure—he needed a bit to think, anyway.
But that weight on me—the happiness I felt when I was around him mixed with the sheer terror of telling him?
I can't describe that combo. But it felt... odd. It was nice to confess to him. I was worried we wouldn't see each other next quarter.
We're still great friends to this day. I did see him next quarter, and I talked to him throughout quarantine. I haven't brought up the thing since. We talk about Agatha Christie characters and weird dreams and send each other memes about being college students. I actually went for a walk with him the day after my birthday last year and we explored a park near his house after getting coffee.
Do I still think about those two days in the tutoring center where he called me cute and amazing?
Yes. I flipped out with the emojis when I wrote that down in the journal.
I've never really received compliments from people other than family members. Compliments on my looks are extremely rare, so it's wonderful to receive them. My first selfie that I kept was from last January, when I thought my hair looked really good—all curly instead of dead straight. (My face was breaking out, but I showed my good side.)
But anyways... that's it for this chapter of my life. I've shared what I could.
Incredible, isn't it? That twist of fate that led me to transfer to this university, take this class at this time, and turn around and—boom—see him right there behind me—glasses, kind eyes, accent? A few months younger than me, but I didn't care?
How did I vibe with him that quickly? What was that instant connection? What was that teasing, sweet chemistry between us?
(More importantly, why did he snicker when I found a stinkbug that fell into my hair when I was trying to work out a tangle one day during class, wriggling on my hand, and flinched so hard that it yeeted out of my hand and I followed it with my eyes as it made its way to the door?)
(Why did he hold my hands after high-fiving me when I helped his code work?)
(Why did we huddle close together when it started to rain at the bus stop, and our arms were touching literally the entire time?)
