text: I was lying in bed, just spinning through social media to pass the time before my eyes got heavy, when she popped up on my feed as someone 'suggested for me'. My stomach dropped and a frog jumped into my throat. I sat up and clicked on the image of her smiling holding a handsome little boy. She was even more stunning than before. I scrolled through her page, recognizing friends and family members who I had met when we dated back in high school. Her dark brown hair still spiraled down her back. She traded in her jerseys and air forces for blouses and heels Her adorable smile still accented by the ever so slight chip in her front tooth that she sustained as a child when her younger sister hit her in the face while she was drinking from a Coke bottle. She was still petite with a slight figure. The only real differences was she was more mature and she had a son. I scrolled through her timeline and her photos. A few scattered images of a man were peppered in her albums, but for the most part it was just her, her son and her family. With each picture, my heart slammed against my chest, faster and faster. I hovered over the “add” button, contemplating the results. Would she remember me? Was she married? Was she happy in her relationship? Would my friend request upend both of our lives? I hesitated for a few minutes still scrolling her page before I pressed it. I put the phone down and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep as I remembered my time with her. I met her in the mall cafeteria our senior year. She walked past me wearing khaki colored Glo jeans. I nearly broke my neck watching her walk from the lunch line to a table in the back. We made brief eye contact and she shied away bashfully but not before letting our gaze hang in the air. I turned to my friend and said, “That’s my future wife.” He laughed and dared me to go speak to her. I was scared but he refused to let me remain a coward. He popped out of his seat and ran towards her. I gave chase to encourage him to return to our seats so that I could daydream about her from a safe distance. He wasn’t having that, and reached her table before I could say anything. I arrived seconds later but the conversation was already in full swing. “Yeah, this is my boy, Tito. Hes’ new.” He said as I nervously approached. I gave an awkward smile and a lame wave. The girls giggled at the table. She looked down and her friend spoke. “This is Missy.” Her wave was as lame as mine. My friend hit me on the arm, encouraging me to speak up. I mustered up the courage and said in a breathy voice, “Hey, how are you.” “Good”, She replied simply. Her friends giggled again. My friend rolled his eyes at my shyness. He prodded me. “You want to get coffee sometime?” I blurted out, not even a coffee fan at the time. “Sure.” We exchanged numbers and my friend and I walked away. He was laughing so hard he stumbled as we made our way around the tables to exit the cafeteria. I, on the other hand, was floating. Our courtship didn’t last long but for those few months, I felt fireworks like never before, or after for that matter. Countless nights in that short period were spent awake for the entire night talking on the phone about our wild families, our goals for the future and how happy we were. After a few weeks, being able to find some alone time we made love. Maybe I was a bit overzealous because immediately following, as I held her in my arms I said, “I am going to marry you.” Her face dropped, but she politely smiled and playfully asked me to stop. At the time I thought it was because she was embarrassed. We were young and inexperienced in love but I knew what I knew. I have always believed that through transparency, relationships are built the strongest, despite what some may think. However, I didn’t realize that sometimes, people use words to manipulate and to take advantage. I thought my truth would make her happy, knowing that I loved her so much. I assumed that spilling my heart out, would encourage her to share hers. After that night, she started to ignore my texts. My calls would go to voicemail and she avoided me. It wasn’t until months later, I heard she received some well meaning advice from her friends. They told her that I couldn’t possibly know that kind of love and that my intentions must be to manipulate her. I scared her away. We didn’t speak or see each other for almost ten years after. She moved away, attending a private University, receiving her Masters degree in accounting and currently working at a small but prestigious firm. She had a young son but she appeared to be doing really well for herself. I, on the other hand, got caught up in a different world. One of music, gangs, drugs and women. The clean cut young man she had spent some of her early days with, was now a tattooed artist with two children and a lifestyle like a rap video. Yet ,to my surprise, a few days later, I woke up and I had a new Facebook friend. I smiled with delight as I opened up the messenger app. I contemplated sending her a message. Before I could lose the nerve, I started typing and deleting on my keyboard, ultimately landing on something that played out as awkwardly as our first interaction: Hey! How are you? Hope all is well. So good to see you. I let it marinade in the box before I sent it hoping it would somehow getting better during the delay. Then I hit send. Within seconds a bubble appeared with the waiting ellipses. My palms moistened, my throat tightened and my heartbeat nearly doubled. Hey! I’m good. It’s so good to hear from you. I hope you’re good! The conversation continued for the next few days as she filled me in on all of the details in between the information I had already gathered. She was engaged to her son's father but their relationship had been flat for years. They spent no time together and had been engaged for two years with no date in sight. She had been with him since we separated. I told her about my life. How my best friend was murdered and how it had impacted my life and direction for a long time. I told her about my children and where I was with things. We reminisced about how different we were but how much we still carried remnants of the teenagers we were from so long ago. Eventually, I mustered up the courage to invite her out for a coffee, which she gladly accepted. There were two hours between us so we chose a day when her work brought her onto my side of Boston. We picked a small coffee shop within walking distance of her job. I arrived 20 minutes early, with shot nerves, sweaty armpits and chain smoking. I stayed in my car puffing away, looking in every direction waiting for her to arrive. A beautiful Hispanic woman started walking toward the little shop with only two outdoor settings. She wore a black pencil skirt and a white, black top and red heels which I later realized was her favorite color combination. Her dark hair was pulled up with one spiral strand hanging delicately on the right side. She walked confidently in my direction, but she hadn’t seen me yet. When she was close enough, I stood up and out of the car. A cigarette dangling coolly from my lips as I locked the door. My pants hung low like my chain. My hair was expertly cut, which I made sure was fresh that morning. “Hey.” I said, trying to be cool. My shirt sleeves rolled up so she could see me tattoo sleeves. I hoped the bad boy image would help me win her over. I wasn’t confident my game or station in life would work so I needed to pull out all the stops. She smiled, pulling the rogue strand behind her ear, her cheeks taking on a pink undertone. “Hey, Tito.” “Let’s grab a seat,” I said, directing her to one of the outside chairs. “How you like our coffee?” I asked, still trying to sound cool. “Ice coffee, extra extra please.” She reached for her purse. I shook my head, “I got this.” pulling out a wad of cash, again hoping it was impressing her. I knew on paper she was way out of my league but I thought that if I could stay in my league, maybe I could get her to like me again. She smiled, looking at me and not once at the thick wad of nearly a thousand dollars in my hand. I made my way into the minuscule shop and emerged minutes later with two ice coffees. I placed hers in front of her with a straw. I smiled as I took my seat, careful to make sure my back was to the wall, one of my personal quirks. She sat playing with her lone strand, smiling at me, blushing like we were teenagers again. “You look just as beautiful as you have always looked.” I managed to say. “Thank you,” she said, “You look great, too.” I think I blushed, knowing I looked different from my younger years. A beard, tattoos and muscle growth meant I was barely recognizable. I was scared her taste wasn't me, but she was giving me the impression that I was wrong. We talked for over an hour. Eventually, it was time for her to return to work. I stood up first with a smile plastered to my face. It waned a bit as I realized our small fairy tale was ending. She lived far away from me and these rendezvous would be nearly impossible with any regularity. Still I had to ask. “Can we do this again, soon?” “Yeah, I’d like that. I have a client in Brockton for a few days next week. I’m actually staying local because it’s a big job. Maybe we can grab lunch?” “Dinner?” Again, I had to ask. The butterflies in my stomach had not flapped with such ferocity since the first time I saw her. She paused, looked at me and nodded, “Dinner works.” I walked her back to her office. We said goodbye with a hug and I kissed her on the cheek, making sure to linger just a second too long, hopefully letting her know how I felt. She hugged me back, squeezing tight, her fingers pressing firmly against my back muscles. “Thank you. It was great to see you.” She said, moving the relentless strand of hair from the side of her face, placing it back over her ear. “It was my pleasure.” I responded as I opened the door for her to walk through. I watched her walk into the office. I turned around and for the first time in ten years I was floating again.