It was a rainy day. Rainy and gloomy, standing under the awning, damp and cold, waiting for our races to come up. I may have only been in 8th grade, but I knew that this boy was special. At that time I didn’t know just how special he would become.

“Stop flirting with him.” Samantha said, after he and I had been repeatedly kicking each other in the butt. “I’m not flirting with him, he’s just my friend, we’re just messin’ around.” I answered. I thought I was telling the truth, but deep inside I must have known that I was lying. I began to figure it out as we started to talk more. His name was Daniel, and even though he was only a 7th grader, I had a crush. His step-sister told me that he liked me, but I wouldn’t openly admit that I liked him.

One day after gym class, his girlfriend of a week and a half dumped him. I waited for him to ask me out. I knew he would, wouldn’t he??

All that time, my best friend was trying to hook me up with James. I hadn’t told her what I thought about Daniel yet, so she kept pushing it. Eventually, I tired of waiting for Daniel, and went to the dance with James, one of our friends who was new to the school that year, but quickly fit in. Two days before we graduated Jr. High as valedictorians, James and I officially started “going out.” I actually had my best friend, Onie ask him for me, since being rejected to the face was unbearable back then.

We stayed together the entire summer, though my thoughts were, I admit, primarily focused on Daniel. Two weeks into my freshman year, James and I figured that we were merely friends. And our attempt to be more wasn't going very well. So, once again using the best-friend-messenger-service, I ended that relationship.

Two days later, on September 14, 2000 Daniel walked up to my locker between classes. I looked up at him and knew the words that were going to come out of his mouth. “Uh... Kortnie? Do you, uh... wanna go out with me?”

I had never been so sure of anything in my life. With a big grin on my face, I said, “Yeah.”

We both liked each other, that was apparent. He later told me that he hadn’t asked me out earlier because James was his friend and James liked me, so he waited. He and I were both shy; we hardly ever talked, and when we did, it was just small-talk. Our major “communication” was our massive amount of PDA we often got in trouble for, but, after about four months, I just got sick of the same old routine, day in and day out.

I didn’t talk to him about it, I was too shy for that. I still had the Jr. High mentality of “being rejected” or thought of as a loser. I really wanted to end it myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not because I was too shy for it, but because I didn’t want to see the look on his face and know that I had caused his pain. Unfortunately, his class was right across the hall from mine. He was waiting for me. I avoided looking at him; I knew that eye contact would make it that much worse for both of us. He knew it as soon as I walked past him. I felt terrible, but I had to stop the routine.

We flirted still, small tickles as we passed in the hallway, those “looks" that we gave each other. We didn’t want to be apart, so about two weeks later, we ended up back together.

Although our intentions were good, our insecurities and worries about saying the wrong thing were the same, but we did ease up on the PDA quite a bit. That time we didn’t fare much better.

In April, he said, “Kortnie,” and again, I knew the words to follow. He rarely said my name, and when he did, it was usually something important. That ended it. I could’ve sworn I kept catching him looking at me throughout the rest of the school year, out of the corner of his eye, but told myself that it was over, it was just wishful thinking. He was going out with other girls (which he later told me was because of the same-old Jr. high peer pressure)

I thought about him through the end of the school year and over the summer, but now I was getting used to being without him, and the fact that it was over.

I was almost over him the day the phone rang. “Kortnie,” he said, “Do you know who this is?” That big smile crossed my face again. “Yeah.”

It was July 28, 2001, the beginning of a relationship that would change me forever. This time, we decided, we’d do it right. We started out a little shy at first, so we eased into it by writing notes asking questions: “What’s your favorite color?” “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?” “Are you a Christian?” From these we moved on to talking for hours on the phone, to being able to talk for hours in person.

With him being pretty quiet in general, most of my friends were indifferent to him, but I was surprised that my “best friend” the same one indeed who had hooked me up with James, couldn’t be nice to him. Her making fun of him was always covered with an “I’m just joking with you,” but I told her that it bothered me and she continued, so, I just hung out with Daniel. Why should it matter to me what other people thought of him? He wasn’t abusive, or into drugs or alcohol, or in any way a bad influence on me. In any of those cases, I’d advise people to listen to their friends, but excepting concerns for my safety, this relationship was between me and him; not me and him and everyone else. If they couldn’t handle that I’d found someone who made me happy, it was their loss. It’s not as if I ditched my friends for my boyfriend. I tried to hang out with them, but they didn’t want to hang out with him, so ultimately, they pushed themselves out of my life.

I remember the day it happened, where it happened, how it happened, everything. I was getting on the bus to ride to a teammates’ house before practice. Daniel was walking me to the bus because he had wrestling practice. I gave him a hug and a kiss goodbye. I’d been contemplating saying it for weeks now, I just wasn’t sure of the right moment. Honestly, I was going to say it right then, but as soon as my mouth was open, he said it. “I love you” (another BIG smile) “I love you too.”

Dan and I grew closer and closer, and eventually he went from best boyfriend to best best friend. If I was having problems, I talked to him, if I had gossip, he was the one to hear it. He was so sweet to me, he always listened to me, and told me what I needed to hear, even if it wasn’t necessarily what either of us [i]wanted[/i] to hear. He helped me in my relationship with God. We read the Bible to each other and talk on the phone for hours almost every night. We were inseparable. We knew that we were going to be together forever.

We worried that as summer approached, we wouldn’t be able to see each other as often. Granted, it wasn’t as often as during the school year, since I wasn’t allowed to drive people besides my brother. Nonetheless, we still managed to see each other at least once a week.

July 28, 2002- I knew he was making me dinner, and giving me a present for our one-year anniversary, I just had no idea what the dinner or gift would be. He told me he had to ask my mom before he got my gift, which got my suspicions going, but the best hint I could get was, “It’s bigger than a grain of sand, and smaller than a house.”

Eventually, the “big day” came. I went to his house to dine on a fine dinner of ribs and real mashed potatoes, followed by strawberry cheesecake (my favorite).

He picked up a box from behind the shelf, and I opened it. A small, white stone, set in white gold. Our promise ring. His promises: 1) He would never intentionally hurt me, physically or mentally, and 2) If we were still together, he would propose one day.

My gift to him wasn’t as expensive, but full of memories. It contained the “fairytale” we had written together in some late nights on Instant Messenger. It told the story of a prince and princess named Daniel and Kortnie. The book also contained pictures, movie stubs and other mementoes.

Afterwards, we went for a romantic rowboat ride on the lake for another heart-to-heart talk. We got caught in the rain, but it was worth it. A couple weeks later, he found out about some problems in his family, and I could tell it tore him up inside, and I wanted desperately to make him feel better, but couldn’t do anything to fix it.

A week before school started, I called him to see if he was going to a meeting we had for 7th grade orientation that we were helping with. It had to be one of the worst phone calls I’ve had. “My mom called.” he told me, talking about his real mom. “She wants me to move down with her next week.” To California is where “down” was. Although he was 16, and could legally choose which parent he wanted to live with, he didn’t want to fight his mom, and accepted his fate. That had to be my worst day. Except for the meeting, I cried all day, and even came close to it there, which is rare for me, since I refuse to cry in public.

Our last week together was busy. It was literally one week, Monday to Monday. We spent a day at his house, had deep talks out in the boat, about whether or not to stay together, whether or not to go all the way. At first we were going to break up, but decided that we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives, and it would be worth the wait.

We went to the state fair twice, and at one point, I was enjoying myself so much that I actually forgot that he was leaving. We got to the subject of the homecoming dance and he asked “but who will you go with?” “You...” I started, before hitting that point of realization that he wouldn’t be there.

I skipped a cross-country meet on one of my favorite courses to watch his last football game. It was Saturday, and I only had 2 days left.

His last day was the hardest. It was September 2. His mom flew up from California to ensure that he boarded the plane. Honestly, I didn’t want to like her, but I wanted her to like me. I wanted to hate her; she was taking away my true love. But I didn’t want her to think I was a hellion. I wanted her to leave him here, to realize that he has a good life up here. As much as I wanted to dislike her, I couldn’t. She was so nice. I didn’t like the idea of having someone with us all the time that day though. I wanted some time for just me and Daniel. Alone time to hold him, talk to him, say a real goodbye. I eventually stole him away for about two minutes. I started to cry and told him how much he meant to me, how much I loved him, and how much I wanted him to stay.

He held me through my tears, told me how much I meant to him, how much he loved me and how much he wanted to stay. He promised me that he wouldn’t cheat on me. An obvious suggestion, but with a ring to vouch for it, it seems more “official.”

Our big goodbye wasn’t our final goodbye. We saved the big goodbye hugs and kisses for ourselves, and settled for a shorter hug and slightly prolonged kiss for our final goodbye, which was in front of our mothers.

I watched the rental car pull out of the driveway and turn down the road. I turned away before it was even out of sight. I lay in my room and stared off into space before getting ready for the first day of my Junior year the next morning.

School wasn’t too peachy. I’d been with him for almost two full school years. It just didn’t feel the same without him. For about two weeks I was bummed to the point you could tell just by looking at me. I eventually got more used to the fact.

Since he’s been gone for 4 ½ months now, we’ve had our trials. Other guys for me, him wanting me to be happy whether I’m with him or not, but we’ve stuck it out and stayed together. I’ll get to see him in two months, just in time for my 17th birthday. I know that we’re going to be together forever, so no use in wishing my life away now. I’ll enjoy my time as much as I can without him instead of wallowing in self-pity. All I have to do is love him and wait for him, and one day, he’ll say “Kortnie,” and I’ll know the next words out of his mouth to be, “Will you be my wife?”