Hoping to Not Expect Anything Else

     As cliché as the topic first loves get, I’ll never get tired of them, as each story, no matter how similar, contain the feelings of a naïve child, searching its way through the difficult journey of many yet-to-be-experienced emotions.

     I don’t think I’ve ever really had a first love in my life so far no matter how much I contemplated about it. I mean, I guess there were small crushes here and there, but I don’t think liking the boy that included you in a tag game in the fifth grade counts as much of a first love. But then again, this is a version of the first love felt by my little fifth grade self, experiencing the pains and joys of a crush even while not understanding the exact definition of "emotion".

     Life was simple back in the elementary school days, and having crushes seemed easier than even the simplest of math problems back then, which, honestly, still holds true today.

     I guess you can say that I’m perhaps one of the most un-extraordinary people there are out in the world. Average thoughts, average looks, average grades, average life—well, you get the idea. So even though this little first love story may be a little average, it’s still a memory that will hold on throughout the years for its bitter undertone and sweet aftertaste.

     My little self back then was a lot like how I am now: a little introverted, but hella sassy when I get to know you too well. I had friends, and we often played together during recess. But oh, you see, even back then, our little minds have already created a little caste system determining who everyone wanted to be with, and then everybody else.

     My first crush is the one in which they so innocently placed as the most popular kid in school. And even though his looks were (and still are) a little above average, it was most definitely his personality that gained him the title. In fact, all the girls in my grade now have either had a crush on him before, or is still currently harboring feelings on the inside.

     He had a group of friends that often played tag during recess, and anybody was eligible to join. I think there was a day when my friends and I were tempted into joining one of their games even though at that age, I already knew that my mortal enemy is the act of physical exertion in the form of running. Nevertheless, I participated in the game and had fun. After that, we played together several times and he and I became moderate acquaintances, just like the rest of the fifth grade class.

     After some time, for a reason I don’t even remember anymore (most likely a really stupid one), we started punching each other on a regular basis. In fact, I remember this one time I was just walking around without bothering to participate fully in the tag game, when I heard a voice shouting “I know how to make her run faster!” At that moment, I looked behind me, but before I could do anything else, he'd already ran up to me, punched me, then run away laughing.

     Needless to say, I chased him down on the elementary playground to punch him back two-fold. To this day I belive that in a way, he'd won that round.

     That is, until one day, he came up to me and said something along the lines of needing to stop and getting permanent bruises, to which I replied that I was getting permanent bruises with his fingerprints on them.

     He grinned for a second after I said that and I grinned back, ear to ear and him, dimple to dimple.

     We then proceeded to shake hands. While shaking hands, though, I noticed how rough his hands were for a fifth grader, but playing basketball anytime he could might've been one of the reasons.

     As middle school came along, I realized that my eyes would follow him if they ever caught sight of him. This little subtle act was so ingrained in me that I didn’t even realize it until probably months after sixth grade started. Then, that’s when the realization hit me— I had a crush on the one person that had the most hopeless of all instances.

     More so now than ever before, the distance between us grew even wider, as he assimilated into the jock world, and I into the commoners’ tier of the middle school caste system. However, we still talked, and joked, and teased each other about various things. It was hard, as most people have shared; unrequited love is one of the most painful things a person can experience.

     While writing this, I wondered to myself, “Have I ever considered maybe, telling him about this?” I answered this question quite quickly actually. I never did. It never even crossed my mind. In fact, we even discussed his issues with the girl he likes, and I was still rejoicing over the fact that we talked like we were old friends.

     So even though we were really close, the heart and mind wanted two different things, I guess, and this first love turned out to last a little longer than I expected.

     Now that we’re in high school, nothing much has changed, other than the fact that we’ve finally drifted apart, even as friends. We don’t talk to each other anymore and we don’t have any classes together either.

     Sometimes, in the hallways, we’d say hi to each other. Other times, we’d both ignore each other even after eye contact because of the awkward distance our relationship has ended up with.

     Three years into high school, and I can now safely say that the little crush on him I had back when I was still in the single digits age, is just a little remnant of everything I’ve imagined, over-analyzed into, and ignored over the years.

     While I was still the commoner of the school caste systems, now probably more into the nerd tier than anything, he’s now placed on the varsity basketball team level.

     Wait, sorry, were you expecting that we get together? I for sure would never see that coming, even back when I was kind of head-over-heels infatuated with the guy.

     Now Homecoming season is here again, and I don’t think we’ve talked at all this year, unless you count that time when I was explaining the process of cellular respiration to a group of people including him. But I see him coming this way, and I’m about to ask him who he’s asking this year.

     Before I could start the opening tease as we neared each other though, he beat me to it.

     “Hey,” he started.