I'll start from the beginning. The true beginning, the one no one knows about but me.
The first moment I saw him. No one knows how early he hooked me – common knowledge is I knew of him because we shared several classes, but the truth is I was obsessed the second I first laid eyes on him in the hallway during orientation.
Tall, lanky, hair mussed in the way that makes girls think of sex. But mostly tall. God, how I love a tall on a boy. He stood leaning against a trophy case, feet crossed at the ankle, staring at a door across the hall as if he was willing it to open immediately. I could have gawked at him from afar for days with him standing just like that. When the door finally swing ajar a smile so mesmerizing it rivaled Jake Gyllenhaal's parted his lips and bared his teeth. Wide, friendly, heart melting, and panty moistening.
I immediately changed my mind. I could watch him stand there not just for days, but for years as long as he had that smile on his face. I wanted anything for that smile to never disappear. I wanted more than anything to be the reason for that smile.
But a moment later I saw his smile's true catalyst and in that moment my heart broke more than it should have for a boy I'd only known existed for mere seconds. He held out his hand for her and kissed her sweetly on the lips, whispering good morning against her smile, before pecking her lips once more, grabbing her book bag, and walking away down the hall hand in hand.
I had stood gaping at their retreating forms until someone who had been in my morning intro session approached and startled me out of the daze I had fallen into.
By the end of the day I had the tally: four out of five classes together. At least one class together every day of the week. If I didn't get over this obsession the same day it started I'd fail out of law school. I'd have to go back home as the girl who couldn't hack it in law school. I'd have to go back to my old dead end job and be miserable and start smoking and drinking and die an old woman with a barking cough and fifty cats.
No, it would be easier to just get over it. I could will it away. I knew I could.
Instead, the masochist that I am, I somehow became his best fucking friend.