I never thought my seventh-grade classroom would be where I’d meet the love of my life. Back then, Arlo was just another face in the crowd, though his infectious laugh always seemed to carry across the room during lunch breaks. We’d exchange casual hellos, share notes sometimes, but that was it.
Everything started shifting in tenth grade when we ended up at the same tuition center. I’d spot him solving physics problems, his forehead crinkled in concentration, and we’d sometimes walk home together, talking about everything and nothing. Still, we were just friends – or so I thought.
Eleventh grade changed everything. I found myself spending more time on the canteen rooftop, pretending to study while watching him play volleyball. The way he moved on the court was mesmerizing, and sometimes he’d look up, catch my eye, and wave. My heart would do this little dance that I tried desperately to ignore.
“Kandy and Arlo sitting in a tree…” my friends would tease, and I’d roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks burn. “We’re just friends,” I’d insist, but even I couldn’t explain why my stomach filled with butterflies whenever he texted.
The small moments started adding up – him saving me a seat in the cafeteria, our hands brushing while sharing earphones, the way his eyes would linger on mine during conversations. We started texting late into the night, sharing our dreams, fears, and silly memes that only we found funny.
Then came that midnight call on June 12th, 2023. I was wrapped in my blanket, half-asleep, when my phone lit up with his name.
“Are you awake?” his voice was soft, nervous.
“Barely,” I laughed. “What’s up?”
There was a pause, then: “I need to tell you something, Kandy. I’ve been trying to find the right words for months now…”
My heart started racing as he continued, “I think I’m in love with you. Actually, no – I know I am. And it’s terrifying because you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that, but I can’t keep pretending these feelings aren’t real.”
Time seemed to stop. All those moments, those lingering glances, the butterflies – they suddenly made perfect sense.
“Arlo,” I whispered, “I love you too. I think I have for a while now.”
We talked until sunrise, laughing at how blind we’d been, how our friends had seen it long before we did. Our friendship didn’t end that night – it evolved into something even more beautiful.
Now, two and a half years later, we’re navigating the challenges of long-distance while he studies abroad. Some days are harder than others, when all I want is to share a coffee with him or feel his arms around me. But we make it work through video calls, virtual movie nights, and messages that never seem to stop.
I’m working harder than ever in my studies, building toward our shared future. When we do get to meet, those precious few days feel like magic – like no time has passed at all.
As we approach our third anniversary this June 12th, I can’t help but smile at how far we’ve come from those seventh-grade days. Our love story might not be conventional – starting as friends, growing slowly, now stretching across continents – but it’s perfectly us.
Sometimes, when we’re on our late-night calls, Arlo still makes me laugh just like he did in that seventh-grade classroom. Only now, when he says “I love you,” I get to say it back. And even though we’re miles apart, I know this is just the beginning of our forever.
They say the best love stories start with friendship. Sitting here, looking at my phone wallpaper of us making silly faces, I couldn’t agree more.