Josh is quite the genius, isn't he?
Eight years young and he fell in love.
She was the shortest girl, the cutest and bubbliest. Bold, brassy, and confident, naturally she overlooked him.
He watched her from the swings, where he carefully picked apart his PB&J sandwich, for his mother had yet to learn that being allergic to jelly meant that he was allergic to all types, grape jelly included.
She snuck away from her friends to feed the small, helpless squirrel he was looking after, the one being bullied by another, meaner squirrel.
Wordlessly she crouched down next to him and tore off bits of her sandwich.
He smiled and knew she was different, compassionate.
Nine years young and he fell in love.
She worked so hard on that science project, though to anyone who asked she'd say that her father did it.
And she pretended she was wearing makeup, that she wasn't blushing with pride when that blue ribbon was pinned to her shirt.
When her friends said winning at the science fair was dorky, she kissed the ribbon regretfully and tossed it into the trashcan.
He'd rummaged through the trashcan and saved that coveted blue ribbon, for it was special in her heart and he knew she'd want it some day.
She'd shyly approached him and asked for the ribbon afterwards.
Ten years young and he fell in love.
That summer she was afraid to swim at the country club, for she didn't know how. While she told her friends she preferred tanning because swimming was too childish, he'd seen her cry hysterically on Friday afternoons when the lifeguard suggested she take swimming lessons.
He pretended, on her behalf, that he didn't see her father bribe her with shopping trips, with fun vacations, with toys and jewelry. For unlike her father, he knew of her fear of deep water, of drowning, sinking.
She'd shyly approached him and asked for help, secretly, so she wouldn't be shamed before her friends.
Eleven years young and he fell in love.
She stood before the class, mouth moving but no words coming out. The teacher, cruel and unsympathetic, urged her to start, for they hadn't all day for Summer to gather her thoughts.
She let the tears well up in her chocolate brown eyes, darkening the edges and bringing out the fear within.
A few giggles started in the back row and surged throughout the classroom. Without turning around Seth knew whom the perpetrators were: her friends.
He liked to think it was his encouraging smile that stopped her from breaking into tears at her inability to speak before a crowd.
Twelve years young and he fell in love.
She set up her best friend with the boy she liked, her true feelings revealed only to the diary she haphazardly carried around in school.
She left it one day on her desk, for anyone to read.
It was he who noticed the alarmingly purple notebook.
It was he who skimmed the pages and felt his heart break, for hers belonged to another.
She snatched the diary from his hands, a cold glare stopping his prying eyes.
Where'd you find it?
He pointed to her desk. She glared again.
Did you read anything?
A frantic head-shaking 'no'. But he had.
Thirteen years young and he fell in love.
She was at his bar mitzvah, surrounded by friends, and he was glumly sharing a mother-son dance. She shyly asked him to dance and his heart jumped, his mother was elated.
A joke, a dare, he'd heard, but she had danced with him. And after it was over she'd turned a genuine smile into a bored frown and hurried back to her friends. Laughing, high fives all over and his heart split.
She stole a glance back at him and offered the smallest of smiles, mouthing 'I'm sorry'.
He hurt, but the pain was lessened knowing that she did too.
Fourteen years young and he fell in love.
She had her first drink and fell over standing. He was the closest object on two feet and subsequently she leaned on him, gripping his arm.
She was drunk, but he chose to believe she considered him someone to count on.
He'd held her wavy hair back while she threw up in the toilet, smiled when she offered a slurred 'Thanks', for he knew, come Monday, the whole incident would be forgotten, or at least shelved.
She came up to him with a bathroom pass and whispered a sober 'Thanks' on the way into the bathroom and she hadn't forgotten.
Fifteen years young and he fell in love.
She was out dining with her father, one of his rare appearances.
He, a dinner in honor of his grandfather's conquest of Montana or something of the sort.
She approached him in the middle of business talk, saying hello to his parents, his grandfather and the twenty-something.
He had seen her father cast approving glances his way, and with them Summer's reluctance to leave her own dinner party.
She'd charmed them though, the whole lot of them, and he couldn't help but believe she wanted to socialize with him.
A small smile, 'I'll see you at school', she was comfortable.
Sixteen years young and he fell in love.
No amount of begging, pleading, or bitching could get her friends on the ride.
She stubbornly marched away, friends promising to wait. He crept into line behind her.
She was surprised to see him. He was more surprised when she asked to ride with him.
Of course he said yes. The ride thrilled him but not as much as she.
Her hand found his. He caught her eye; she looked away, her hand sweating in his palm.
Breathless, they raced down to the photo kiosk for their picture. She doubled back, bought the picture afterwards.
He pretended not to see.
Seventeen years young and he was in love.
She rested her head in the crook of his neck, gently placing feathery kisses on his smooth, pale skin. In turn, he laid his head on top of hers, lips shifting downwards to plant a slow, lazy kiss on her forehead.
The sun was setting, already sheathed by a brilliant display of orange and crimson and the faintest of pinks. Beneath their bare toes the sand cooled quickly, settling into the night, a dark, grainy feeling.
He could hardly believe this was real. She was here, and not in his dreams. Not a joke nor a dare, she loved him.