NZ's Collection

IT was the spring of seventh grade when I first noticed her. Her name was Emily, and she had this way of laughing that made everyone around her feel lighter. She wasn’t the most popular girl in school, but there was something about her that drew me in.

It started with small things. I would find myself looking for her in the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her smile. In class, I’d steal glances at her when I thought no one was watching, just to see the way her eyes sparkled when she was deep in thought. The most trivial interactions, like borrowing a pencil or passing a note, felt monumental.

My friends noticed the change in me and teased me mercilessly, but I didn’t care. My heart would race whenever she walked by, and I spent hours daydreaming about what it would be like to hold her hand.

I remember the day I decided to tell her how I felt. It was after school, and we were both walking to the bus stop. My palms were sweaty, and my heart felt like it might leap out of my chest. With every step, the words I had rehearsed over and over in my head felt heavier.

Finally, I turned to her and blurted out, “Emily, I think you’re really amazing, and I like you.” The silence that followed felt like an eternity. She looked at me with wide eyes, and then, to my surprise, she smiled.

“I like you too,” she said softly.

From that moment on, everything changed. We were inseparable, sharing secrets and dreams, and spending countless hours together. It was innocent and pure, a beautiful introduction to the world of love and relationships. Though it didn’t last forever, the memory of my first crush remains a sweet reminder of the magic of young love.