I walked in, books clutched against my chest, backpack hanging off my left shoulder. I took a seat in the only open seat in biology class. A blonde smiled and moved her things so I had room to set mine. First days at school sucked. Everyone stared. I couldn’t blame them. I was that new girl from Monticello. The town that when anyone from it crossed the border into Warren, all teens rallied the troops. Monticello and Warren had this huge hate for one another. My football team is better than yours kind of hate.
I wasn’t stuck up or mean but I’d have to prove that. I hated stereotypes and here I was, a damn stereotype. I thanked the girl and introduced myself. I got out a pen and a notebook and looked towards the front. Red hair with blonde highlights blocked my view. I was tempted to touch the gel spiked hair but was half afraid it’d induce bleeding and unhealable wounds to my palms. I chewed on my pen as I tried to scoot my chair so I could see the board.
“We are going to calculate our pulse. Please stand,” the teacher said as she did a conductor type motion with her hands. We all stood grudgingly. No one wanted to stand. We were teenagers who wanted Ramen Noodles, TV and a couch.
“Now, I want you to turn around in circles until I tell you to stop. Ready, go!”
We all turned in circles, some being mindful of others, some taking this as an opportunity to slam into one another and guys to accidentally feel girls up. The redhead in front of me turned to face me just at the time I was turning in his direction. He was jumping around like an idiot and smiled at me. My face got hot. I was blushing. Never in my life had I ever been instantly connected with someone like that before. He was extremely attractive, or as we said back in the day, fiiiiinnne.
We all stopped. I had to put my hands on the front of my desk to stop the room from spinning. She then had us put our index finger to our pulse and count how many times our heart beat in a minute. We recorded it in our notebooks.
Class ended and I learned absolutely nothing. I stared like a creepy person at the redhead. Later that day I learned his name was Chris. I didn’t ask around or anything weird like that. I overheard someone call his name after lunch outside at the picnic tables, to which he responded. Chris, I laughed to myself. Of course he’d have the name of the guy I was currently dating.
I made friends my first week of school. I loved Warren. But I had no clue that on that day, when I first saw him, that I’d be married to him and have two beautiful daughters with him. Our story isn’t finished yet and I can’t wait to see where the journey of life takes us. Together.
Happy 11th anniversary to the man who still calls me baby, gives me butterflies when he’s around, holds my hand in the car, tells me he loves me often, refuses to leave for work without kissing me, fixes my dinner plate EVERY NIGHT because he wants to, and never lets me forget how much he loves me and our daughters.
Then. . .
Now. . .