Grant

His name was Andrew. He was 16 when we met and he had a habit of wearing white v-neck shirts that hugged his body and having his hair spiked up with too much gel. He wore glasses and was skinnier then most people I knew. He had this attitude that made him seem like he was a bad person but when I met him, I saw through that almost instantly.

We met during the summer when I was 11. He went to another school in a different state and he was visiting his family for the summer. We hit it off almost instantly. He didn't care what I looked like or the way I talked. He seemed as though he was more progressed then other people my age who were only worried about what I looked like, rather then the contents of my heart.

He smiled at me from across the pool. I was waiting in line to get an ice cream cone when he walked in. He had his shirt draped over his shoulder and a towel around his waist. I felt my heart tighten and I couldn't help but stare. He shook his head slightly, laughing a little as he walked past me, setting up his towel by the basketball court.

The day went on as the sun scorched my skin and the water dripped down my face. For most of the day, we never spoke. We smiled at each other from across the pool and I watched him jump off the high dive with confidence. Occasionally, I would climb out of the pool and open up a book, resting away from the heat of the sun.

"Hey."

The voice made me jump. It was unfamiliar and I felt my heart skip a beat. When I looked up, he was standing over me blocking the sun with his shadow.

I was generally shy but something about this boy made me open up. "Hi."

Our conversation went on until the pool closed and until my mom came by to pick me up. He left just as my mom turned the corner and flashed me a smile before he drove away. On the way home, I played with the piece of paper he handed me before he left. The pencil marks etched into a small piece of paper with his name and his screen name. He made arrangements to meet me at the church a few minutes from my house.

Andrew wore a cross around his neck the first time we met. I had never been one to be religious and even at my age, I had strong opinions about the way I thought things happened. I went to church on occasions, when a neighbor lady took me and my best friend at the time, Felicia, and my best friends mom. I always felt weird when they took communion and I followed closely behind them, swallowing the "wine" they gave us and the bread the pastor placed in our hands, face inches from ours, whispering an over used line. Andrew, however, didn't mind that I wasn't religious. He walked with poise to the pastor, shaking his hand and nodding as they spoke quietly. He took the wine, instead of the juice placed out for people our age, with confidence. No one mentioned it to him.

After service was over, we spent the brunch with each other and our friends from the youth church group. He made me feel as welcome as the church welcomed him. He held my hand and brought me a drink when my cup of punch was empty. When we left, we'd spend the day running around my neighborhood and swimming at the pool with his cousins and sitting cross-legged on the blacktop of the basketball court, sharing drinks and laughs.

I never mentioned him to my parents. I never was one to share much with my family for fear of being made fun of, yelled at, or told to do things differently. For the entire summer, and the rest of our journey, our relationship was kept a secret. The only people who knew were his cousins and a few of my internet friends.

We would spend hours in chat rooms with other friends, laughing and using asterisks to display affection towards each other when we couldn't be near each other. He would pull me close to him when we talked in chat rooms, in our own little world. Minutes turned to hours and our friends would cringe at the words we would exchange. Every time my chat window would open and his screen name would appear on my screen, my heart would twist up in knots. It was hard to believe that liking someone was this easy.

He had kissed me several times in person and as summer went on, despite our age, we begin getting more and more serious. He would hold my hand as we walked through the mall and he told me I was beautiful every chance he got. We spoke about his family and his friends and the things he liked to do in his spare time. And when I went to camp for a week during the end of August, I did nothing but miss him more then I would have liked to.

When he picked me up from camp that summer, with one of his older cousins in tow, we hugged closely and he listened intently on the way back about my experiences. In the back of our minds we knew that at the end of the summer neared, he'd have to leave.

The August heat hit us through the window of his cousins car as he had me pressed under him, kissing me. We never went any further then kissing, but I loved him and I wanted to but as summer dragged on, the thought of him leaving became even more and more pressing on my mind. I cried in his arms the day he left me, knowing that it would be difficult for me to see him again. He only came down during the summer and we had an entire school year ahead of us before that would happen again.

He cried in the privacy of my arms. His tough guy demeanor shed away from him like extra skin. That was the day he told me he loved me. And that was the day I said it back, not exactly knowing the ramifications of love and just how hard it can hit you.