Your First Love: A Short Story

The One

Hello!

This will only be one chapter. But I hope you'll like it. :)

It starts with the look.

You can feel it catch on you and, instead of passing over, stays. You can hear his laugh and the casual banter behind you. But he keeps looking at you. You have no idea why. Eventually, his friends notice. They egg him on, one being enough of an ass to actually place a bet. You're tempted to shake your head. Frat boys. Do they think you're some bumble headed girl who's deaf? You pack up your laptop, swiping your pencils and notebooks off the desk.

His hand lands on you. You jump. He apologizes, breaks the ice with some witty comment about the crackpots he just sat with. You laugh. He winks, and walks out. As though he were just about to leave too. You look back. The boys are gawking.

You look for him. Who is this man? It doesn't take long. The smart guy from economics who managed to steal the heart of any female on campus. A flirt. You dismiss him for what he is.

He shows up outside the classroom. You frown at him. He smiles, offering to take your books. You politely refuse, making some on the spot excuse about research. You stride away. The fellow somehow manages to dog you throughout the stream of students, keeping a steady chatter. Even when you research. For hours. You feel bad, even though you had a good time. You end up going to dinner with him.

It's the most fun you've had in a long time. The few you have dated were either arrogant smart alecs or delicate genius puppies. He's the perfect balance. Smart, maybe a little too flirty, handsome. But not disgusting. He doesn't leer at you like your last date. And he doesn't try to shove you into joining him for a night out that will surely end badly or a dinner with his parents. You say goodbye after having a dinner of hot pot and talking worker's rights in impoverished countries. You don't expect to see him again. You're fine with that.

He taps you on the shoulder the next day. You jump. Your heart starts rushing just a little faster than usual. He grins, tilting his head. You ask him how he always sneaks up on you. He replies, "You always focus on what's inside." You ask if it's an observation or a compliment. "It can be either, whatever you want."

You go out with him again. And again. You start doing this half of the nights in a week. Your roommate notices. She gushes over him, pointing out how cute the two of you would look together. Soon, the other girls, the ones who flock to him like bees to a flower, see the two of you.

The first girl saunters up to your table. She goes so far as to try and sit in his lap. He tells her to go away. She pouts. Her hand snakes up his arm. He takes her hand and gently pushes it away. She gets up, confused. He tells her he has a girlfriend. You. She says he can call her anytime before leaving, making sure her hips sway.

"I'm sorry," he says. You absently twirl your spaghetti.

"Don't be," you reply.

The romance is slow and steady. Aside from the occasional ex from either sides, the relationship is sweet. He never asks for sex. He never shoves you into a box of social expectation. The one time kids come up, you say you don't want any. He nods and agrees wholeheartedly. You start wondering if you could marry him. After the degree, you think. After the Bar.

He graduates, leaving for some lucrative job in Silicon Valley. You're sad but you know it's not the end. Despite what many say, you know this relationship will be perfect, long distance and otherwise. He is in your thoughts most of the days as you finish your finals. He kisses you when you graduate. You move into his condo after passing the Bar Exam in California. It's perfect.

The cases are some of the most exciting. You've made millions from your cases. You become one of the big shots. Your husband? He's okay. A business consultant for Apple. He's slowly climbing up the corporate ladder. He frets about his lack of success like how some men fret over their chest size. You tell him you don't care. Money isn't everything. Neither is power.