December arrived, cold and gloomy. The weather seemed to mirror the students feelings, as they prepared for the dreaded finals. J and I spent most of our free time together, studying, relaxing, snuggling, and kissing. My roommates had accepted J as a permanent fixture sitting on our couch, but still rolled their eyes at us as often as they could. Some afternoons, J would pick me up, and we’d drive around rural idaho, talking for hours. There seemed no end to the topics we could talk about. We’d tell each other about our classes, what we were learning. We’d talk about old crushes and past relationships. We’d talk about what we each wanted in the future. We talked endlessly.
The week of finals, I studied every waking minute. I was determined to do well, especially in my child development final, which would be my last final of the semester. I was flying home to California that next weekend, and J would drive home to Utah. J was going to fly to California after Christmas to spend New Years with my family at the cabin in Lake Tahoe. My parents were curious about this boy that was coming to visit me, but I said very little.
The night before my last final, I was talking to my roomate, F. I was pacing the room, and agonizing about if or when J would propose. F giggled, and asked “What will you say?” I stopped, and stared at her. What would I tell J if he proposed? I began to panic – God hadn’t told me what to do yet! I had been praying every day, but had I gotten an answer? That evening, I kneeled next to my bed, and begged Heavenly Father to tell me what to do. I prayed, telling about J, and how I felt, and that I thought he might ask me to marry him. Suddenly, a voice popped into my head. “What do you feel?” I thought. Peace. I felt peace. But that wasn’t a real answer, was it? “Peace is your answer.” I sat there, deep in thought. Being with J brought me peace. Without him, I felt anxious and worried, but with him, I felt safe and peaceful. God had been answering my prayers all along, I had been expecting a dramatic revelation, but my answer was the peace and calm I felt about J. I was going to marry this man! Now I just had to wait for him to ask me …
After saying goodbye to my roommate, I sat on my bed, and began another difficult goodbye. I stared down at the airmail letter form, and prayed that I would know what to tell the missionary. I felt so bad, knowing that I would be breaking a heart. I decided to make the letter short, and to the point. I had fallen in love with someone else, and was going to marry him. I wished the missionary all the best, and prayed that he would forgive me and move on. I sealed the letter, crying softly. It was late, far past curfew time for the apartments, but I snuck out, and down to the common room, where I slipped the letter into the outgoing mail slot. There was no going back now.
School was out for Thanksgiving, and my roommate K and I were going to be on the same flight to California. The morning we were to leave, I dragged my feet, not wanting to say goodbye to J. After all, we would be apart for 5 full days, and we were used to being together every day. I cried getting on the shuttle to the Idaho Falls airport. J kissed me, and assured me that the time would go quickly. I got on the shuttle next to K, and sniffled pitifully. K rolled her eyes at my twitterpation. The drive to the airport was about 40 minutes, and as we arrived at the airport, I was still moping. We grabbed our luggage, and entered the little airport. We checked in, and waited. A couple minutes went by, and I heard my name being called. I turned around, and there stood J, his blue eyes crinkling with his smile. I giggled and ran over to him. He wrapped me up in a bear hug, and told me that he was watching the shuttle drive away, and realized he wasn’t done saying “see-you-later”. I abandoned my roommate with our luggage, and walked with J. The airport was extremely small, but there was a little gift shop that we wandered through. I picked up a soft stuffed puppy dog, and turned to J, trying to mimic the puppy eyes. “I’m going to miss you.” I whined. J leaned down and kissed me. “It’s not for long.” I put the stuffed animal down, and we wandered out into the airport. I ran to the ladies room, and when I came out, J was waiting for me, with a package in his hands. He reached into the package, and pulled out the stuffed puppy. “This is for you. Whenever you miss me, just give him a hug and remember that I love you!” I glanced over at K, who rolled her eyes at me again. I grinned at her, threw my arms around J, and kissed him soundly.
That weekend, we watched conference and spent time with J’s family. His nieces and nephews were adorable, and his sister was sweet. It was a peaceful weekend away from the busy life on campus. Sunday morning, I was sprawled on my stomach, listening to a conference talk. J plopped next to me, caught my eye, and winked. I giggled. For once I didn’t feel confused, just relaxed and peaceful. I was in a relationship with J, and we’d see where it would go. I looked up at J. He smiled and kissed the top of my head. We turned our attention to the television, listening to a talk about marriage. “Do you think maybe we could be headed towards that?” J whispered. “Marraige?” I asked, and he nodded. Suddenly, my heart was filled with happiness – I had to hold back the laughter. I wanted to marry this man. I knew what I truly wanted! I was going to burst – “I could be your WIFE!” I whispered, a little too loudly. “Shhhh!” J laughed, and kissed me sweetly.
The next week was busy, I had so much to do for my classes, and there was just a month until finals. J and I would meet in the library, and study. We spent all our free time together, to the point where my roomates always expected him to walk through the door behind me. He watched movies with us, ate ice cream with us, hung out with us. He was my best friend, but he was more than that too.
One night, we headed home from the library. J pulled me across the open walkways to a bench, tucked in the center of a small grove of pine trees. The november wind was bitter, and the trees provided some relief. I shivered, and J pulled me into a hug, rubbing my arms to warm me up. I snuggled my cold nose on the chest of his sweatshirt. J cupped my chin with his hand, and gently lifted my face to look at him. “I love you E.Marie.” My eyes widened. He waited for a response. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a leap into the relationship. Keeping my eyes closed I whispered “I love you.” J laughed, and I looked up at him in annoyance. “Let me show you what you just did,” He laughed, then closed his eyes, wrinkled his nose and said in a whimpy voice “I love you”. “That doesn’t count,” he said, still laughing. “You have to keep your eyes open to make it count!” I was irritated. I was scared for some reason. I didn’t know why, I’d said “I love you” to boys before. For some reason, this was different, it was real – the love was real, and to say that outloud scared me. I opened my eyes in an exagerated way, looked at him straight on, and said loudly, “I love you.” J grinned. “That was better.” He chuckled, then kissed me sweetly.
It was a chilly mid November day when we wandered Main Street in Rexburg. We peeked in the front window of a jewlers store. The display was covered with ornate yellow gold rings with emerald cut stones. I had never liked yellow gold, but white gold was a rare find, and platinum wasn’t even heard of in a little country town. We wandered into the store, holding hands, and began to look around timidly. “What are the rings you like?” J asked. We looked through the display cases. “How about something like that?” J pointed to a large ring that seemed covered in clusters of diamonds. “Too gaudy,” I said. We kept browsing. Finally I saw a ring tucked away in the corner of one of the cases. It was white gold with a touch of yellow gold in the center, and had a small row of diamonds on each side, leading to the center. In the center was a diamond chanel set in yellow gold. “That one” I said. “I really like that one.” J looked at me, and grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Good to know.” He winked at me, and we continued on our walk around town.
Thanksgiving was a week away when crisis attacked my little dorm apartment. One of our roomates had been living with severe mental illness, and The truth came out, and the dorm mother and dean got involved. Our roomate was to be picked up by her parents at the end of the week, and checked into a mental health facility. She would not be returning to school. It was traumatic for my roomates and I. We were eighteen and ninteen years old, trying to be grown up and independent, but this situation caused major homesickness to wash over our appartment. Most of the girls spent hours on our phone, and our neighbors phones, finding comfort through talking to their parents. I found that I wasn’t homesick for my parents, they were busy at home with my younger siblings. I spent my time with J, who talked me through my feelings and fears, and held me when I cried.
The end of the week came, and we were having a goodbye party for our roomate when one of my roomates pulled me away from J and whispered “There’s a guy with a bunch of roses asking for you.” I had no idea who it could be, but I slipped away. Inside my appartment was the older brother of the missionary, holding a dozen roses. I cringed. I hadn’t writen the missionary in over a month, and my previous letter had let him know that I was dating a guy kind of seriously. The brother awkwardly handed the flowers to me. “He asked me to give these to you. Today is his one-year mark until he gets home.” Just as awkwardly, I took the flowers. Right then, J walked in, looking for me. He looked from me to the brother, and me again. I introduced the two guys, and J quickly realized the relation between the guy in front of him, and the missionary. He grabbed my hand, and kissed my hair. “Whacha doing sweety?” He asked, not so innocently. The brother’s eyes widened, and J smiled at him, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I woke up the next morning with a headache. I wanted to stay in bed, and pull the blankets over my head. Maybe I could live in hiding, the curtains pulled closed, comfy in my pajamas and with my special blanket to keep me company. Instead, I dragged myself to class. Everytime my thoughts drifted to J, my heart pounded, and I had to fight the tears. I realized that morning how much J had become a very normal part of my life. It was rediculous – I had only known him for a month. I wasn’t in love with him – I was going to marry someone else. I pulled my ponytail holder out of my hair, letting it fall into my face, hiding my puffy eyes from anyone who glanced at me. The missionary’s promise ring on my finger didn’t shine like normal, it seemed dull and tarnished. How could I have let myself fall for J? He’d become my best friend. Why couldn’t it have stayed like that – best friends? Why had I let him into my heart, where it could hurt me so much?
I wandered around campus after class, and ended up at the cafeteria. I hadn’t eaten alone in weeks – J always met me there, and we’d eat together and tell each other all about our day. I sat right next to the door, and ate quickly. I wanted to get home, and just forget about the past twenty-four hours. Maybe I’d get some ice cream, and drown my sorrows in some Ben & Jerry’s chuby hubby while laying on my bed in my pajamas. I left the cafeteria, and realized that I didn’t want ice cream. J got me ice cream a couple times when I was having a bad day. Remembering him made my eyes well up with tears yet again. I walked outside, the sun casting a soft orange glow around me. I hurt too much to enjoy it.
I began walking across the quad when I glanced up. I met those blue eyes that belonged to J. My instinct was to rush over to him, tell him about my bad day, and just get a comforting hug. Then our fight rushed back to me. I stood, unsure what direction to walk. He was the reason it had been such an awful day. Why would I want him to comfort me? I realized I was staring at him, with my brows furrowed, and my mouth in a pouting frown. I tried unsuscessfully to wipe any emotion from my face when I realized his eyes looked so sad.
“Can we talk?” J asked. I nodded, and followed him to a quiet patch of grass tucked away near the student building. We sat on the grass across from each other. I stared down at the grass, afraid to meet his eyes again. I ached to reach over, and lean against him, having him wrap his arms around me. I missed him so much. “I miss you” J said softly, a pleading in his eyes. “I know how you feel,” I started, “But I just didn’t think you were the kind of person who made fun of others, even if they are … different.” My feelings and fears spilled out, and J nodded as I spoke, listening intently. I told him how worried I was that we were superficial together, that we had fun, but there wasn’t a depth there. I paused, and we lapsed into silence. We each stared anywhere but at each other. I was staring at the fabric of my jeans, J stared up at the sky.
J was the one who broke the silence, “Do you see that star there?” I looked up, and nodded. In the evening sky was a faint star, determined to shine bright enough to be seen through the sunset. “Ever wonder if Heaven is near that star?” We began talking about Heaven, our life on earth, and eternity. After a while, we lapsed into silence again.
“See, we can have deep conversations. We’re not superficial. It’s okay to laugh and joke, but I am sorry I was hurtful with my comments about the choir director.” J reached over, and gently lifted my chin so our eyes would meet. I glanced down, and noticed a bug crawling on the leg of my pants. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, causing J to glance down to see what had caused such a reaction. He laughed, and I glared at him. I reached down to flick the bug off my pants. The bug didn’t flick off. Instead, it smeared across my pants. My favorite pants. I burst into tears.
J chuckled, and pulled me over to him, into his arms. He hugged me tightly, reasurring me soothingly. “It’s okay, you’re okay, everything is okay” I relaxed in his arms, letting the tears flow. He held me, and let me cry. I felt safe and peaceful, letting myself cry in the arms of this man, who I knew would protect me. I didn’t want to admit it, but I needed him.
We started over slowly. Best friends first, whatever else came, we could deal with then. We were best friends, I felt safe with him, and I needed a friend desperately. Our friendship had a new depth to it, and I trusted J more. I opened up, and told him about my missionary, about the promise ring and how I was confused and didn’t know what I wanted. I told him about my family, my life, my trials. J told me that I needed to pray, and that he just wanted me to be happy – no matter who that would be with. He cared about me deeply, and my happiness meant everything to him.
I still wrote the missionary, but my letters were short, unsure, and unpassionate. His letters to me became longer and longer, more insistant that I had to focus on him, and that he was the only one for me. He told me that as my future husband, he was my preisthood holder, and I needed to follow his revelations. I may have not received revelation about him, but I needed to trust him – his revelation was for both of us. I began to question my faith. If he was receiving revelation about our relationship and future, why wasn’t I? I felt anxious when I prayed, begging my Heavenly Father to give me the same revelation, crying when I’d sit and wait for a feeling, a prompting, anything to come to me. All I felt was empty and confused.
Two weeks after we met, I walked home from work, and on my appartment door step was a huge bale of hay. I stumbled over it, and through my front door, where my roomates were waiting. “Why is that hay at our door?” I asked them. One roomate rolled her eyes, another asked if I had noticed the note attached to the hay. I ran out the door. There was a note – it said “E ~ Hay, wanna go to homecoming with me? ~ J” I giggled in excitement, and showed my roomates. Now what was I supposed to do with the bale of hay?
In true Ricks College fashion, I spent a couple days coming up with a response for J’s invitation. Finally, I found a stuffed cow, and wrote him a note: “Hay is for horses, and for cows too, but sure, I’d love to go to Homecoming with you!” We were excited for the dance, and I decided to wear my burgandy formal from high school – hopefully, it would still fit after all the college cafeteria food. I’d been a high school junior when I went with my mom to pick out the fabrics at a warehouse in Seoul. I’d picked a deep burgandy raw silk, and a matching velvet embossed fabric for the bodice. Our seamstress had come over, measured and sewed the dress perfectly for me. I kept my fingers crossed that it would somehow still fit.
Homecoming day arrived, and the dorms were filled with the chaos of giggling girls. I pulled my curls up in a ponytail, and put on a little makeup. Then I put my dress on. It fit perfectly! I grabbed my 4” heels (quite the change from my usual grass-stained tennis shoes!), and balanced as I put them on. When I walked out to where J was waiting, I realized that even with those extra four inches, I still had to stand on my toes to hug his broad shoulders. I also realized that he smelled so good and manly, and that he gave the best hugs … he was like a six foot four inch teddy bear. I loved teddy bears, and I thought to myself how much this man was beginning to mean to me, and I sighed.
We had dinner with his roomates. J was stressed – one of his roomates had a tendancy to steal other guy’s dates, and he was worried. I didn’t understand why he seemed stressed, and worried endlessly. By the time we made it to the dance, we were both exhausted! We had our picture taken, then I slid my heels off, and we danced. The evening ended, and J walked me home. He left me with a kiss, and a feeling of confusion.
The next day, I checked my mailbox. My weekly missionary letter had come. His letters were getting longer. This particular letter was 12 pages … with the front and the back filled. He told me about his experiences in Brazil, about people he was teaching. He told me he loved me, and that he’d received revelation that I would be his wife. That we’d be amazing together. Just one year left, then he’d be home. He told me that when the days were hard, he would get home to his appartment, and he’d get out my picture, and have faith again. Because we were right for each other.
I was so confused. I thought I was in love with the missionary. He knew he was going to marry me. I didn’t know that, but if he had received revelation, then it must be true. I called J, and he came over. We sat outside on the grass, and talked. I said I wanted to be friends. He said that he wanted me to be happy. He was so easy to talk to, so calm, and he listened so well. I felt like I could tell him anything. I talked to him about my missionary, my confusion, and my life. I talked for several hours, and it got dark. We layed on our backs in the grass, staring up at the star-filled sky. Our conversation turned deeper, about the stars and eternity and God. The night ended with a comforting hug and a soft kiss on my forehead. Somehow, I knew everthing would turn out okay.
A week later, I was preparing for Stake Conference. I was singing in the choir, and leading the music. It was intimidating, but J sat in the audience, smiling at me with reasurance. I stood to lead the music. A few bars into the chorus, the painist stumbled. Her tempo slowed down, and I struggled to lead the congregation with the music. Somehow we made it through the song. I sat down, relieved the opening song was over, but anxious for the choir’s music, and the closing song. The Choir director stood. He was wearing a purple suit with a matching tie. He led the choir with infectious enthusiasm. The choir number went well, and I relaxed. The closing song was a repete of the opening song. The pianist stumbled over the notes, but I stayed calm, smiling sweetly at the poor nervous pianist. It was finally over, but my anxiety wouldn’t leave.
That evening, I was agitated. It had been a long day, and I was emotionally spent. J was laughing about stake conference, and the poor music, but I was becoming more and more irritated. He was always joking a lot. Did this man have a joke for everything? Did he think it was okay to make fun of people? The more I thought about it, the more I began to fume. Then came the final straw. “The choir director looked like a grape up there in that purple suit” J laughed. I turned to him, and told him that he was so rude, and we were over. I didn’t want to be with him anymore. I glared at him, noticing that he looked shocked, as though I’d just reached over and slapped him for no reason. I gathered my anger, gave him one last glare, and stomped away to my apartment.
I shut the door to my apartment, and burst into sobs. I shook as I cried, the pain in my heart confusing me. I wasn’t supposed to be with this guy. I had my missionary, and he’d come home, and we’d live happily ever after. But why did I feel like my heart was broken? My roomates tried to comfort me. They went and got my summer roomate – one of my dearest friends – hoping she could reach me through my tears. No one could console me. Finally they just let me cry. I sobbed all night, until finally I had cried myself to sleep.
I sat across the table from him for the next hour. I let myself get lost in his gorgeous blue eyes. I was a sucker for blue eyes, and his entranced me. I noticed that when he asked me a question, and I answered, talking about myself, he would pause eating, and just listen to me, leaning his body forward, as if he wanted to capture every word.
He’d served a mission in Madrid, Spain and was fluent in spanish. His name was J, he’d told me D because he’d only been home from his mission a couple weeks, and wasn’t used to saying his first name again. I laughed – he was so cute and proper and return-missionary like. He was raised in California, and was the youngest of four kids. He had a brother who was a podiatrist. His sister lived in Utah. His parents had moved to Utah the week he got home from his mission.
I told him about all the places I’d grown up, about living overseas, and about my family. I was the oldest of five kids, had worked as a department store make-up artist then as photographer, and I loved animals, and had a bunny back home named “snuggles”.
We finished our food, and I noticed the dinner crowd had left, the cafeteria was now quiet and calm. It was late afternoon, and I had a fireside to attend later that evening. We walked outside the student center, and started looking around aimlessly. “Do you like snakes?” J asked nervously. I didn’t mind them. He asked if I wanted to see a museum exhibit he was in charge of at the Biology building. At the biology bulding, he pulled out some master keys, and unlocked a door, guiding me through the exhibit, showing me the different reptiles and amphibians.
After the tour was over, J carefully locked the door, and pulled me over to a nearby room. Inside the room was an upright piano, centered in the front of the room. He asked if I played. I smiled coyly, and plopped myself down. All those years of tourterous piano lessons were finally paying off, I could show off a little. I played my favorite song – Jessica’s Theme, from the soundtrack of The Man From Snowy River. He was impressed. I turned the question on him, “What about you? Do you play?” I sat down in awe as he played “Love, me”, a popular country song, and sang along. His deep voice was gorgeous. He played song after song, and I would sing along, and he would harmonize with me. Then he began a song I didn’t know, singing the beautiful lyrics. I listened with wide eyes. The music echoed through the empty room, just like the chemistry between us. The song ended softly, the chords resonating perfectly. “I wrote that song” he said in a low, quiet voice.
I cringed inside. J was incredable. What was I doing – I had a missionary boyfriend? I had to reel the emotions back in before J or I got hurt.
“I better get going” I said causually, “There’s a fireside I am attending, and its later than I though”.
“Hey, I’m headed to that fireside too! Let me walk you there”
Dang chivalry.
After that fireside, we went for a walk off campus. J wanted to show me his favorite place, a quiet little bridge over a stream. It was a block from his appartment, and near the railroad tracks. It was far from the hustle and bustle of campus life. In the calm night, we could see stars in the big Idaho sky above us. We sat on the wooden bridge, and stared into the sky. Our eyes would meet, and I’d duck my head. It was romantic, but I’d known this guy for a whole 8 hours! I was scared – things were happening too fast.
We saw each other every day the next week. J made excuses to show up at my classes, and I made excuses to go to lunch with him. We were becoming friends. Good friends. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. J asked me on our first official date for the Thursday after we met.
We walked to his appartment that evening. He pulled out a recipe – “Sis’s Chocolate Chip Cookies”. He grinned “We’re going to make cookies” I giggled. J did most of the work, adding the ingredients, and stirring it all together with a brown wooden spoon. I sniched the dough – it was delicious. J turned on some spanish music, and we danced around the kitchen, as he translated the lyrics for me. So, J could sing, play the piano, bake, and dance – could a man get any better?
The cookies were perfect, slightly buttery, and loads of melted chocolate. J loaded them on a plate, and grabbed my hand. “On to the next part of our date” he said. He led me behind his appartment, along the property wall. The brick wall gave the little walkway a secret path feeling. In the corner, the brick wall opened up to a small path. The path let to the parking lot of a Taco Time, right next to the drive-thru ordering board. I looked at J, confused. “We’re delivering cookies to Taco Time” he said. I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?” He laughed, and led me to the drive through window. No one was inside. J knocked on the glass, and I peered into the restraunt. No one came, so he pryed the window open, and carefully placed the warm plate of cookies on the counter, next to the register. The window slid closed on its own, and together we ran, hand-in-hand, towards the safety of the wall.
I was giggling, and gasping to catch my breath. J was laughing a deep, contagious laugh. We hid behind the wall, peering around the corner. We waited, and continued waiting. I stood on a ledge next to the wall, trying to get a peek over the wall. Unfortunately, my 5’4” height couldn’t match his 6’4”. He could see, and I couldn’t. “What’s happening?” I kept asking. “Nothing yet!” He’d reply. I stared up at the telephone lines above us. Our eyes met, and I glanced down. Looking into his eyes caused my stomach to flip-flop, and would take my breath away. I looked up, he was looking right into my eyes. I tried to hold my breath, hoping my heart would stop pounding, and praying he couldn’t hear what his gaze did to my heart rate.
He leaned towards me, and my eyes fluttered, then closed. His kiss was sweet and tender, very innocent and gentle. I suddenly felt shy and unsure. Our first kiss was perfection. We looked at each other, soaking in the moment. Suddenly, the drive thru speaker boomed to life, cause me to jump, and loose my balance. J grabbed me, and steadied me, as we heard “Welcome to taco ti … what the … one moment please?” J peered over the wall, and watched as the employee came back with a man in a white shirt and tie – the manager. The manager and employee had a quick discussion, then the manager picked up a cookie and took a big bite. Our first date was a success.
A couple weeks into school, I made the resolve with my roomates to eat sunday dinners together. We all ate at the cafeteria, so we would meet there and eat together. I had a meeting that afternoon, so I stayed in my khaki skirt, cute shirt, and a sparkly silver ribbon tied in a bow around my tidy ponytail. After my meeting, I pulled out an airmail letter, so I could respond to my boyfriend’s latest letter, and address his concern for me to be in a school surrounded by all those RM’s, the scary-marraige-hungry-returned-missionaries. Some guys can be such worry worts! There was no way I would get swept off my feet by some other guy!
My stomach growled as I wrote my letter. I was hungry, and the letter was getting tedious. It was getting closer to dinner time, and the lounge began to fill with other hungry students. I stared at the paper, trying to decide what to write, when someone sat on the bench next to me. I glanced up, started to go back to my letter, when my eyes shot up again. Sitting next to me was one of the cutest guys I’d seen in months, smiling at me with his blue eyes.
“Hi” he said with a grin. “Hi” I replied, then causually went back to my letter, watching the guy in my preripheral vision to see what he’d do. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want him to disapear when I wasn’t looking out of the corner of my eye.
“So, you writin’ a letter?” He asked. I quietly chuckled to myself. This guy was observant … since it was obvious to the whole room that I was indead writing a letter. “Yep.” I said … as if he really even needed an answer. Maybe he wasn’t as cute as my first glance had led me to believe. As I glanced up to get a better look at him, he asked about my letter. “A boyfriend or just a friend?”
I looked the guy over. My first glance had not been acurate. He was much more handsome than I’d noticed! He had blue eyes that seemed endless, blonde hair in a nice clean cut style. His suit fit him just perfectly, and his deep blue tie with sunflowers caught my eye. I loved sunflowers – they were by far my favorite creation that God had made. Who was I kidding – he was gorgeous in a rugged but clean cut way, someone whose appearance screamed “Eagle Scout”.
I had to think quickly to answer his “boyfriend or friend” question. I was a bit in a pickle. I used the whole “writing my missionary” line to scare the boys away … but I didn’t want to scare this guy away. There was something about him, and I didn’t want him to get up and walk to some other girl. I wanted to keep him all to myself … I’d go back to my missionary later.
“Just a friend” I answered quickly, shoving the letter out of his, and my sight. I put by bag aside, and turned towards the object of my interest. He smiled at me. “I’m D” he said, and I noticed his eyes crinkled as he smiled. My stomach was filled with butterflies. Those eyes. I could get lost in them … I wanted to get lost in them!
I don’t remember what we talked about, but his eyes had sucked me in. I didn’t notice when others around went inside the now-open cafeteria to eat. I was focused on this guy, it was just the two of us, the world melted away as I listened intently to whatever he was saying. My roomates called me out of my dream world – I glanced at them, and back at this guy, not wanting to stand up and break the spell I was under.
Finally, I stood. He stood. We stood there, both of us not wanting our “moment” to end. “Well, see ya in there” he said. I smiled, trying not to scrunch my nose in response to my roomates calling to me across the room. Roomates come first. This is just a passing boy. I almost believed myself. Almost.
I followed my roomates into the cafeteria. We got our food, and I began to follow them to the six-person table they’d saved for just us. Then I noticed that same guy sitting alone at a table in the back of the room. He saw me looking at him, and nodded his head, with a slight smirk. He looked like he was just going to eat happily until some well meaning co-ed decided to befriend him. Heavens knows there were pleanty of desperate girls in that cafeteria. Oh, his confidence annoyed me. I sighed inwardly. My roomates glared at me as they followed my line of sight. “We promised to eat dinner together”. I looked at them with an appologetic cringe, shrugged my shoulders, and knowing they would never forgive me, I walked past our reserved table, and over to him.
Monkeys In My Minivan 