So it happened that I fell in love with a Beautiful Boy and to my greatest surprise and happiness he fell in love with me too. We spent a month entwined in each other, dating and learning and laughing and kissing and talking.
I introduced him to my friends and they loved him. He met my brother and sister and they liked him just fine. (Eventually the Boy and my Sister would really hit it off but that happens a bit later…) We spent time with his family and while they were loud and intimidating purely by the size of their gatherings, I soon found my voice in that crowd and felt very comfortable amongst their clan.
His friends already knew me a bit and we’d always connected quite easily. While they were concerned that our young love was just a rebound fling and that I might run back to my ex, they soon became aware that our connection might be something rather more exceptional. They’d never seen him in love like this, he’d never been as sweet and courteous and selfless with any other girl.
In our joyous, blissful state, we didn’t care a fig what happened beyond this moment. Every day and night was planned to provide the most time spent together, more fun with many friends and wonderful evenings alone. He would drop me off at work in the morning, then the hours dragged until he would fetch me again.
We almost got away with pretending that there was no deadline looming. Less than a month after our first kiss, he would leave on a European holiday with his best friend, before returning to the States for his final year at university. As the date drew near, he pleaded with me to join them in Europe. I was severely tempted, but it was practically impossible. I had my job, my apartment and my life to sort out… I couldn’t run off to Europe with a boy I’d just met, could I?