Every day that week, we did something after school. Coffee, movie, music room, my front lawn. On that Saturday, he took me out to dinner, to a restaurant called Digordo's. It was Italian, which is my favorite.
We ate, he insisted on paying, and we left. Nothing exciting, right?
I loved every minute of it.
He drove me home, saying, "You know, I really like you. And I don't know what we are, but I want to." He pulled over on the side of the street, got out and started running. I got out, thinking he was crazy. He stopped about 40 feet away from me, yelling, "This is how much I like you. I don't like anyone else like this, and it kills me to know that you do. Will you be my girlfriend?"
I took off my heels, and started running towards him. When I reached him, I started to kiss him. And we couldn't stop even though we were in front of some random person's house.
And that was the moment I realized that I really liked him. And that if we ever broke up, I would be devastated. I needed him now.
And nobody was going to change that.
