Defining Love (Full story)

By Elizabeth Reyes

Fear of abandonment has been a crippling issue for Henrietta her entire life. It's why when her bestie comes out of the closet in college, admitting to being in love with her, she agrees to take their friendship to another level.

Aaron's led a charmed life. He has a perfect family, a dream job, and his business is booming. He also plans on marrying his equally perfect girlfriend, who he's been with for over ten years. Then he meets his kid sister's college buddy Henri.

At first, it's easy to deny and even try to forget the incredible connection they felt after just one conversation. But when Henri accepts a job working for Aaron and are together almost daily, what they're feeling for each other becomes impossible to deny.

Should Aaron and Henri stay with the ones they love or take a chance on something so extraordinary it's impossible to even explain—understand. Making such a life-altering decision is truly scary.

But even more scary than that?
Regret.

Defining Love. Which is the forever kind?

**NO cheating involved!**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Reyes
• Release date: Aug 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310794445

Elizabeth Reyes

Elizabeth Reyes is the USA Today bestselling author of the Moreno Brothers, 5th Street, and Fate romance series. She lives in Southern California.

Book preview

Prologue

Aaron

They say life is full of defining moments: moments that lead you down the path to becoming the person you were intended to be—live the life you were intended to live—fall in love with person you were destined to be with. I used to think those moments were easily identifiable. I’d know when I met my soul mate. I’d meet her, fall in love, and then we’d have many more defining moments together. It was exactly how it happened for me and Mia, my girlfriend of over ten years. I’d been with her since high school. We’d shared plenty of other defining moments over the years. She’s a great girl, my best friend, and I had every intention of marrying her. After everything she and I had gone through over the years, I was convinced there’d be no more defining moments for me with any other women.

Until that unforgettable moment I had with Henrietta Magaña.

The first time I met her had been as insignificant as any of the other times I’d met one of my kid sister’s new friends. I’d barely noticed her that first time and for good reason. I had no business or interest eyeballing my sister’s friends. Bea was more than ten years younger than I, and though she’d just turned nineteen, I still considered her my baby sister. Her friends were all as young as she was. While I was well aware that at nineteen they were hardly babies, I still couldn’t help but think of them at the very least as little girls. Besides, my heart belonged to one girl and one girl only, and I knew that no other girl could change that. Least of all one of my sister’s friends.

Then New Year’s Eve happened. It started as innocent, trivial small talk. But the small talk turned into one of the most unforgettable conversations I’d ever had. Henrietta was no trivial little girl. Months later, the experience still had me reeling and questioning everything I’ve ever believed about defining moments and knowing when you’d met the one.

Chapter 1

A good friend knows all your best and worst stories.

A best friend has lived them with you.

Henri

Age 15

Don’t leave me . . . please. My lips quivered despite my attempts to be brave and try to be understanding as I’d promised I would be.

Celia reached out and hugged me. "I am not leaving you, she whispered against my temple then kissed my forehead. We’ve been through this before. It’s better if I go. There’ll be more room for you now. You may even get your own bed."

I don’t care about my own bed! I said, straining to fight the sobs, but knew I was losing the battle. "I don’t want my own bed! I won’t be able to sleep without you in it anyway."

I cried openly now. My sister, Celia, was all I’d ever had ever since our mother had dropped us off at a homeless shelter and never returned. I’d only been six at the time and Celia was nine. But even before then, our drugged-out mom was never around, or if she was, she was out of her mind. Celia was who I turned to for any comfort and, as far as I knew, the only family I’d ever had. Her leaving me now hurt a million times more than our mother ditching us.

Henri. She cupped my face in her hands. "We’ve been over this already. I’m eighteen. I can’t stay in foster care anymore. I need to get out of this place. But I am not abandoning you. Do you understand that? I’ll be back to visit you often. I’ll get a phone as soon as I’m able to and call you every day. Be strong, baby sissy. Three years will fly by, and before you know it, you can come live with me, and we’ll be together again, okay?"

I nodded, but the enormous knot in my throat didn’t allow for any words. She could’ve opted to stay until she was twenty-one. They would’ve let her. Instead, she chose to leave—leave me. My heart was completely crushed. When she walked out that door, I’d be all alone. She’d warned me for years she wouldn’t make it here a day past her eighteenth birthday in foster care, and I’d had that long to prepare. But nothing could’ve prepared me for what I felt when she finally left. Collapsing onto my bed, I cried as I’d never cried in my life and for weeks was so inconsolable I made myself sick.

Even months later, each time she came to visit, I’d feel a little better, but then she’d leave again, and it’d be days before I could recover. My foster parents became so concerned about my depression they put me in therapy where I learned my issues ran so much deeper than anyone had ever imagined.

~~~

Age 16

Celia was now living with her boyfriend of just over six months. It’d been a year since she left me behind at our other foster care home. She and her boyfriend lived in a small apartment over the tattoo shop he worked at in the heart of East L.A: a noisy place where his loud and obnoxious friends often came over and hung out and partied all night. They were over so often Celia was getting sick of it, and she said it was no place for me.

I got it. I was sixteen and determined to graduate in two years with honors. A noisy apartment with rowdy guys partying into the night really was no place for me. The foster care system would never allow it anyway, but my foster parents realized how much I missed her, so they did say I could spend a weekend with her every now and again. Even that Celia balked at. She insisted it just wasn’t a good idea, even if only for an overnight thing, because of all his rowdy friends being there at all hours.

Celia, on the other hand, had no other options or rather she did but said staying with Kevin was the best one she had. The hope had been that together we’d be able to afford an apartment of our own once I was eighteen. Celia said she didn’t get along with some of the other women at the transitional home she’d first been set up in by the state and just couldn’t stand it anymore. But I knew she just wanted to be with Kevin. She’d now have to pay rent and bills. Any chance of putting money aside for when it came time for us to move in together was squashed.

Once again, the feelings of abandonment were brutal.

I’d finally worked through some of my most pressing anxieties and self-loathing issues about feeling undeserving and unwanted by anyone. Then her rejection of me and her refusal to have me over even for one night started up. Symbolically, she’d left me all over again. Still, I never told her, but I cried more, then, than when we were abandoned as children. More than when we got the news that our mother had been found dead in a crack house in downtown Los Angeles. Of all the tragedies I’d been through in my short life, Celia’s leaving me was the one thing I didn’t think I’d ever get over. It was only then that the memories were triggered. Memories I’d worked so hard to block out. Memories of the horrid people I once referred to as my parents. Celia’s abandonment was now a reminder that these monsters were who created me. Their blood ran through my sister’s veins and mine. We weren’t much different from our parents. Obviously, Celia was proving this to be the case.

Then we got the call from my social worker, and I was able to once again block the memories—for the time being anyway. They’d found a long-lost aunt of mine willing to take me in. I’d be moving once again. This time I knew it would be different from all the other times I’d moved. This time my sister wouldn’t be with me for the change. Celia assured me I’d be fine.

This is our aunt. She pressed her lips together in reaction to my exasperated frown. "Okay, so we’ve never met her, but how bad can she be? And it’ll be just you and her in her house, not you and ten other foster kids cramped up in one tiny house. Think of all the quiet time you’ll get to study and read!"

~~~

From the moment I met Gemma, I knew things would be different. For one, she wasn’t your typical older Hispanic aunt who loved coddling you to death. Not that I’d know what that felt like, but growing up in East Los Angeles, I’d met plenty of kids my age who actually complained about their well-meaning but overbearing families. Something I could only secretly dream of.

Gemma was as blunt as they came. My whole life both my sister and I had often been asked politely about our nationality. Like most people in the East Los Angeles area, we were Hispanic, but we’d inherited the slant in our mother’s eyes, which she called catlike and exotic and said one day we’d be grateful for. Though I didn’t remember, according to my sister, one of the few things my mother ever tried to teach her was how to apply her eyeliner over the edge of her lids, adding a wisp at the corners, to accentuate the exotic look even further. It was a lesson my sister had passed on to me. Though at sixteen I wore a much thinner version of the sexy liner my sister had been wearing for years now.

It was the first thing Gemma had commented on when we were left alone for the first time. And she’d done so in a very Gemma-like fashion.

So, what’s the deal with your eyes? Was your mom Italian or somethin’?

Italian? I’d been asked if I was Filipino or even an Islander before, but this was a first.

No, I shook my head, confused, but at the same time amused by her pronunciation of Italian with the I as in eye. Why would you think she was Italian because of my eyes?

You have eyes like that old-time movie starlet. What’s her face? She snapped her fingers in front of her, trying to remember. Sofia Loren. The young version, not the old Botox puffed up one. She’s Italian, ain’t she?

I’d heard of the actress. But she was older, and for the life of me, I couldn’t visualize her at all. Of course, I looked her up first chance I got and understood why Gemma might think my mom was Italian based on this woman’s eyes. But I explained that, nope, I was plain ole Mexican American, to which she quickly replied, Ain’t nothin’ plain about being Latina and don’t you forget it.

Another thing about Gemma she let me in on right away was that I wasn’t allowed to call her Tia or even Auntie.

It’s Gemma. She’d corrected me the first time I referred to her as Auntie. And just so you know, I had no idea I had nieces until your social worker hunted me down. I’ve been on the outs with anyone in the family for over twenty years. But I’ve been living alone just as long, so if I’d known about you two, I would’ve taken you both in a long time ago.

I hardly slept those first few nights, thinking how unfair it was that Celia and I had gone through so much over the years and all the while we could’ve been living with our own blood, in a home with our own bedrooms, since Gemma’s house was a four-bedroom home!

When I finally got over the bitterness, I was grateful that at least I’d be spending my last two years here—possibly longer since Gemma did mention I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted but once the foster care checks stopped arriving when I turned eighteen I’d need to get a job or something.

That worked for me.

Another thing that had come as a huge and welcome surprise was that Gemma owned two vehicles: a midsize crossover she called her every day car and a small pickup truck she used for all her trips to the Home Depot. She was retired and was a gardening fanatic. Obsessed might be better word for her love of gardening. When she wasn’t inside cooking, she spent the rest of her time out there planting, pruning, and pulling weeds. Both vehicles were kept in tip-top shape, and she gave me free rein of the pickup truck to get me to and from school, except for the days she was planning a trip to the Home Depot, on which, of course, I’d then have the crossover for the day. Either way I wouldn’t have to walk up and down the treacherously steep and narrow roads in the Silver Lake community of Los Angeles Gemma lived in to get to the bus stop.

Starting a brand new school might’ve been hard for some, but not for me. I was so used it by then that it was no big deal. I was used to the staring faces as I entered each room. I’d been through it enough that I knew in a few days the novelty of the new girl would wear off. I focused on my classes, making sure I was enrolled in the dual-credit courses for college. As a junior, I was way ahead of most of the other students my age, sitting in mostly senior classes.

The day I met Edi I was pulling the trashcans out from the side of the house to place on the curb. Gemma was busy cleaning up the flowerbeds in her front yard. That wasn’t the first time I’d seen Edi this close up. But like the first time I had at school, I felt star struck. She was one of if not the most popular girl in school. Only unlike most of the popular girls in my previous schools, she seemed very down-to-earth, approachable, and not conceited at all. She was always surrounded by a bunch of her girlfriends or girls who appeared desperate to be her friend. It was almost weird to see her alone.

Edi stopped on the sidewalk as she made her way home from school. I’d been home for hours, but judging by Edi’s volleyball uniform, she’d just gotten off practice or a game. Glancing at her long firm legs, I secretly envied that my awkward ass would never be a part of any athletic team, let alone one that required wearing these kinds of uniforms. A girl practically had to be model material to look halfway decent in them. Edi looked far more than halfway decent. She didn’t just have a body to die for; she was beautiful too. I was sure every guy in school was probably daydreaming of going out with her. And girls like me were daydreaming of being her.

Hey, Gemma!

Gemma, who was bent over, kneeling, turned around, lifting her head to get a better view from under her sun hat. Her smile was big and instant. She sat back on her feet. Hey! How’d we do?

How do you think? Edi winked.

On top of it all, the girl had dimples. Yep, life just wasn’t fair. I thought for sure the next thing I’d hear was that she had a 4.0 GPA and was already headed to one of the Ivy League colleges with a full-blown scholarship.

They talked sports and technique for a bit before Gemma turned to me and then back at Edi. This is my niece I told you about: Ms. Henri Magaña. Edi turned to me with a smile. She’ll be staying with me from now on. Henri, this is Edi.

My real name is Erendida, Edi explained with a smile. But I prefer the shorter version.

I could relate. I never really felt like a Henrietta, though I suspected when I got older I’d be leaning toward the more professional sounding name, especially since I planned to pursue a career in social work.

I smiled, fidgeting with the bottom of my blouse.

I’ve known Edi since before she was born, Gemma explained with a big smile. Heck, I watched as her newly married, still wet-behind-the-ears parents moved into that house up the street. Ever since, I’ve watched them fill the nest, and now it’s almost empty again. She’s the last of the birdies left to fly.

Edi’s eyes were very friendly and inviting. She’d never come across as snobby or full of herself when I’d seen her at school. But as pretty and popular as she seemed to be, it was still naturally what I assumed. Not fair I know, but up until then, it had been my experience with girls like Edi—the ones destined to be prom queen and marry the star football player.

You should’ve told me she was here already, Edi said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, and addressed me this time. I saw you around school and heard you were the new girl, but I didn’t put two and two together. She turned back to Gemma. I could’ve showed her around. Made her first day a little less painless.

Gemma shrugged. I figured you two would meet eventually.

I stared at Gemma, trying not to appear as annoyed as that made me feel. All that week I’d been a loner during breakfast and lunch breaks, sitting on the bleachers with my nose in a book. Even though I was used to that, it would’ve been nice for a change to have someone like Edi with so many friends to introduce me to people. Being part of the popular crowd was not something I aspired to be. Still, as Edi said, it would’ve made my life those first few days much less painful.

I can still introduce you to my friends and stuff. Edi’s grin was full of genuine enthusiasm. I take the bus to school in the morning. Do you?

I shook my head, for once regretting that I didn’t take the dreaded bus. I ride my aunt’s . . . uh, Gemma’s pickup truck.

Edi’s brows lifted before smiling big. Lucky you. I have to hike it up and down Alvarado every morning and afternoon.

You should be grateful for that walk, Gemma said, turning back to her flowerbed. Look at those legs for Christ’s sake. No one is born with legs like that.

Edi laughed, rolling her eyes. You don’t think my years of volleyball and soccer have anything to do with it?

Conjuring up more courage than I ever had my entire life, I swallowed hard before offering. You can ride with me if you ever want to.

Gemma turned to peer at me before Edi could respond to that. "Just be careful. Technically, you’re underage and still not supposed to be riding with anyone but an adult. If you take Edi, it’s only Edi. I don’t want you picking up a bunch of other kids."

I bit my lower lip and waited for Edi to respond. At least Gemma’s warning wasn’t a no you can’t, and starting off slowly with only one new friend riding with me seemed safer. I wasn’t used to having friends, let alone popular ones like Edi and lots of them at once.

What time do you leave?

Seven thirty, I said, my heart pounding a little faster.

Was I actually going to know someone at this school? Did her driving in with me mean she’d actually let me hang out with her and her friends during lunch?

Her eyes brightened and her mouth fell open. Oh my God, are you kidding me? I get to sleep in and not have to be at the bus stop at six? Hell yeah, I’ll ride in with you!

And so it began.

The next morning she was on Gemma’s front porch at seven thirty on the dot. We spoke of our classes, and she let me in on some of the need-to-know stuff about some of my teachers. She asked a little about my previous school, but I got the feeling Gemma had filled her in a little about my past, so it seemed she was playing it very safe about what and how she asked.

That first day she introduced me to Daphne and Audrey, two of her best friends since grade school. Right off, I realized Audrey wasn’t as friendly as Daphne and Edi.

So you won’t be on the bus anymore in the mornings? Audrey asked, her brow lifting.

Hell no, Edi said with a giggle. Why would I continue to wake up at that ungodly hour and take the stupid bus when I can sleep in and ride with Henri way later.

Audrey’s eyes had swept over me more than once that first introduction. Months later I still couldn’t put my finger on it, but obviously taking her bus buddy from her had not been appreciated. The fact that even though Audrey lived only blocks away and I couldn’t offer to drive her in, too, didn’t help. But I was under strict orders from Gemma, and I was not about to blow it.

After a few months, Edi’s friendship had become one of the best I’d ever had, which didn’t say a whole lot since I’d made few friends my entire life, but still she was everything I could’ve asked for in a friend. Her friendship couldn’t have come at a better time either. I’d begun to hear less from Celia. She and her boyfriend had visited a few times, but as the months passed, I heard less and less from her. It would’ve probably been more heartbreaking for me if I didn’t have Edi to distract me. I let Edi in on my fear that it felt as if Celia were slowly drifting away from me. Some nights I’d be up all night, tossing and turning, and my heart wrenched at the thought that the only real family left in my life—the only person who’d ever loved me—was disappearing.

Edi began calling me late in the evening when I was already in bed to ask how I was doing. Talking to her magically made things better. At least she got my mind off Celia. She was really good about starting off asking about Celia and then casually changing the subject so by the time I got off the phone with her, my mind was on something else completely.

As I got to know Edi better, she let me in on the dynamics of her friendship with both Daphne and Audrey. All three had met in kindergarten. They all lived right around the corner from one another and had grown up almost like sisters, often sleeping over at each other’s houses. Their parents all knew each other, and they even spent vacations like camping and trips to the beach in the summer together. She finally mentioned that Audrey had always been the drama queen of the three.

I won’t talk shit about her because, no matter how difficult she can be at times, she’s still one of my best friends. She’s just one of those who take everything so personally. And God forbid and Daphne and I plan anything without her. Audrey’s so damn paranoid that we’re booting her out.

Why would you plan anything without her? I asked curiously and trying desperately not to sound paranoid.

After only a few months of hanging around with Edi’s crowd, I was included in everything they did. I was certain that if I found out they did something and hadn’t told me about it I’d probably feel a little paranoid too. From the way Edi spoke of Audrey, it wasn’t a likable quality, so I’d probably never admit to it. Still, I couldn’t help feeling nervous.

We never have! Edi laughed. But there are times when Audrey’s just not around, so maybe Daphne and I start planning something, fully intending to include Aud, but when she finds out about it, she always has this attitude of, ‘You two discussed this without me?’ She’s always been like that, ever since we were little. She has a really hard time sharing us. Her neediness has always been her weakest, not to mention most annoying, personality trait.

We’d been parked in the school parking lot for a few minutes already as Edi fixed her hair, peering into the mirror behind the passenger visor. I hadn’t even realized I’d zoned out thinking about the many times I’d begun to feel needy around Edi. I’d begun to obsess about it actually—afraid someone as popular as she would lose interest in being friends with a nobody like myself. When I finally focused back to Edi’s face, she smirked. What? she asked.

Instantly, my face felt warm, and I looked down at my bag, shoving my phone into it. Nothing, I said, swallowing hard.

How could I tell her that I was just as weak as Audrey? More often than not, I’d feel so small next to Edi. The usual angst I felt about being completely unworthy of someone’s friendship was a million times worse with Edi. I had to wonder if she knew. Did she realize she was the friend any teen girl dreamed of having—being? Her friends were even jealous of one another. Somehow I got the feeling Audrey wasn’t so paranoid about losing out or competing for Daphne’s friendship as much as she was of losing Edi’s.

I was just . . . tripping out on Audrey. I shrugged, trying my best to make less of my zoning out. Clearing my throat, I continued, You’d think after all these years she’d be used to how things are.

Finally, I glanced up, and Edi had what almost looked like a gleam in her eye, but she shrugged again. Some people never change, I guess.

By the end of junior year, a few things had happened. Audrey had really begun to distance herself to the point where she hardly spoke to any of us anymore. I couldn’t help feeling responsible for that. The girl had never warmed up to me, and even though Edi said she’d always been that way, she did admit that it was just this past year that she’d really gotten weird.

My fantasy about being like Edi had only grown with each day I spent around her. She was so impressive when it came to everything. The girl didn’t even wear makeup, and she was still stunning. As if that weren’t enough, she was one of the smartest in our entire class. I was still in no way an athlete and admittedly too many times felt out of place with her and all her athletic friends, but at least I could keep up with the academic stuff.

Another thing that happened that year was that, while I’d started junior year feeling younger and less experienced than most when it came to everything, my body had mercifully cooperated in at least catching up to everyone else. My breasts had grown one whole cup size, and my hips were finally curving so my body didn’t resemble that of a nine-year-old boy anymore. I was also more comfortable wearing a little makeup and wearing my hair down.

My mother had been right. I was grateful for the catlike slant of my eyes. The liner had gotten a little thicker, accentuating what even Edi referred to as exotic eyes. They were one of the first things guys complimented me on. Every time we went out now, we turned boys’ heads. Finally, I was beginning to think it wasn’t all Edi and some of the other older more self-assured girls turning heads. I’d turned a few heads myself. And for once since I’d met Edi and her friends, I began to feel as though I actually fit in.

~~~

That April we got the call. I hadn’t heard from my sister in weeks. From the beginning of the year, I could feel a change with Celia. She was different, not as cheery as she once was, and I knew it was because of Kevin. They were constantly fighting, but I had no idea what else was going on with her. All I knew was her visits had stopped. As much as I felt the change in her, I still heard the genuine excitement in her voice when I told her about my new life at Gemma’s and about Edi and all my new friends.

Celia was really happy for me.

I’d been in Edi’s bedroom, cramming for a test. Mostly we’d been doing a lot of giggling and talking about the spring formal coming up in a few weeks. She’d be going with Gary, the most popular guy in school, but my date, Mateo, wasn’t too shabby, and I knew I had Edi to thank for that. He was also a starting football player and a good friend of Gary’s.

Her mom knocked at the open door of my bedroom. We both looked up still smiling and met her mom’s and Gemma’s somber gazes.

Immediately, I felt concerned. Why was Gemma there? And why did they both look so grim?

What’s wrong? Edi asked before I could.

Her mother brought her hand to her mouth and turned to Gemma, shaking her head. Henri—Gemma hesitated as she stepped into the room—I just got a call from St. Francis Medical. Celia overdosed last night and was rushed to the emergency room. Honey, I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.

All I remember was feeling as if it were a dream. As if I hadn’t just heard the words that had come out of Gemma’s mouth and then felt Edi wrapping her arms around me as I fell apart.

I went through the following weeks, numb. The church services, the burial, everything felt unreal. Edi and Daphne were there for me the entire time, but mostly Edi stayed by my side through it all. Even at night when I told her I didn’t want to be alone, her mom let her spend a few nights with me, despite some of those being school nights. That’s when I first began to open up to Edi about the flashbacks I still had. Celia’s death had brought back some brutal ones. New memories I’d obviously blocked out were now clear as day. It made the connection I felt with Edi that much deeper because she was now the only one who knew the ugly truth. The only one I’d ever share it with.

Weeks later, when I told Edi I wasn’t going to the spring formal, she said she wouldn’t either. She said it wouldn’t be the same without me there too. Feeling guilty that she’d already bought her dress and we’d been planning and talking about it for weeks, with Gemma’s encouragement, I decided to just go. I felt guilty that I actually had a good time, but in the end, I was glad I’d gone.

Before the dance, Gemma had pulled me aside to say that, given the circumstances, she felt weird but still obligated to have this talk with me. The talk.

I know a lot of kids wait for special occasions like tonight to . . . you know . . . do things. Have their first experience, she said, looking uncharacteristically nervous. I’m no prude, and I get that kids are getting younger and younger these days when taking these steps, but I just wanna make sure you’re taking precautions. You’re way too young to get pregnant and—

Oh, trust me, I said, putting her out of her misery because I could see how uncomfortable she was with this conversation. This was something she did not have to worry about. First of all, I have no intention of having my first experience tonight. And for the record, I’m never having kids. So you don’t ever have to worry about me getting knocked up or anything.

She asked why but seemed more relieved that I wasn’t planning on doing things that night, so I kept my answer vague. I just didn’t want any. Ever.

The cause of death had officially been ruled an accidental overdose. Celia had never even mentioned smoking a cigarette or even drinking alcohol, much less shooting up heroine. I knew it did me no good to blame Kevin, but it felt better to have someone to blame and I did—completely. He’d introduced her to the stuff, and if Celia had never met the guy, she’d still be alive. I hadn’t seen or heard from the guy after the services, and I had no intention or desire to see him ever again.

One thing was for sure. If it hadn’t been for Edi, I was certain I wouldn’t have gotten through the painful ordeal. I’d be eternally grateful for having Edi in my life from then on.

Chapter 2

Aaron

At seventeen, I’d become a puppy dog of sorts.

Mia Barsetti’s puppy dog.

Mia had been my good friend since the beginning of high school. I’d known her in middle school, but we hadn’t become friends until the second semester of our sophomore year in high school when we ended up in most of the same advanced classes. She was cute, funny, smart, and refreshingly easy to talk to. Because of homework assignments and often partnering up on projects, we’d end up at each other’s houses a lot.

At that time, I’d never really had a friend who was a girl. All my friends consisted of guys I’d grown up in the neighborhood with. All the girls in the neighborhood and I had always been strictly on a wave-and-smile basis. Until Mia,