The first time I thought I was in love with you, you were lying on your back in the grass. It was recess. Usually, during recess, I played football or soccer with the boys. But not that day. That day, I saw you. I came over and asked, “What are you doing?”
You didn’t answer right away. You were looking at the sky. “I’m lying down.”
“Well, I got that much.”
“Then what are you asking me?”
“Why are you lying down during recess?”
“I’m tired.”
There was a lull. I almost left, but then you continued, “And the sky is pretty, and the grass tickles my ears. Try it.”
I lay down beside you. I tried to see what you saw, feel what you felt. But the grass made my neck itch, and the sky was swathed in gray. I turned and saw you, staring upwards like you were witnessing the Aurora Borealis. Maybe we were looking at two different skies.
On my other side, there was a dandelion. The texture of a fledgling bird, it was ripe for wishing. I plucked it, sucked in as big a breath as I could, and blew like I was a wolf in a fairytale. The seeds went whirling in every direction, dancing in the wind. One of them landed in your mouth, at least; that’s what I assumed from the way you sputtered and glared at me.
“Sorry,” I laughed.
“You know those things are weeds, right?”
“I’ll take weeds that grant wishes over flowers any day.”
“Whatever. All I’m saying is no girl’s ever swooned for a guy with a bouquet of dandelions.”
The second time I thought I was in love with you was when I asked you to go to the homecoming dance with me. It was our first school dance, and having a date felt very important. You looked me up and down, taking in the teeth marks on my lips and my sweaty palms. Then you smirked, rolled your eyes, and said, “Sure.”
On the day, you had this backless, burgundy dress. It made you look five years older. I was in a suit two sizes too big that had the opposite effect. You laughed when you saw me, and I blushed as red as the roses I brought you. Did you know I hid a dandelion in the bouquet? I thought you might find it and smile, maybe make a wish. I always wondered if you found it… and if you found it cute or just weird.
We had a fun night, though. You’ve always been a great dancer.
The third time I thought I was in love with you was also the first time I knew we wouldn’t last. I was pissed off at you. I was sitting on my front steps, trying to read, but I couldn’t focus. I can never focus when I’m upset, especially with you. You’d asked me to meet you outside ten minutes earlier.
Your car jerked to a stop, and you popped out, panting, “I’m so sorry!”
“Good.”
“I know. I know. In my apology for being late, I’m late, but there’s a reason.” You pulled a crumpled bouquet of dark, crimson roses out from the seat next to you. I saw you in that moment: beautiful and stressed, generous and self-centered, bold and scared. Your hair was mussed and your eyes pleading.
I walked up and kissed you. Your lips were chapped and your hands calloused on my cheeks. Your shoulders were still tense.
I took the roses.
“You know, for a second there, I kind of hoped it would be a bouquet of dandelions.”
“Why?”
“Because- never mind. The roses are beautiful.”