He was the life of the party, the soccer-star senior who had allegedly already dated half of the girls in school. (In his defense, it was indeed a very small school.)
He took the seat in front of me during study hall.
A few minutes into my trigonometry homework, a folded paper appeared on my desk and I swear my heart popped a wheely right into my throat.
To say I was socially awkward would be kind. I did okay making new girl friends. But boys? They terrified me. Much to my father's delight, I'm sure.
I opened the college ruled paper to find an innocent enough question. "Are you going to the game on Friday?"
I somehow shook the answer "yes" onto the paper and handed it back.
He followed up, "What are you doing after the game?"
If I wasn't writing it down, I'm sure I would have stammered. "I don't know."
"Do you want to go out after the game?" he prodded.
Before I could say "Yes!", or "No way!", or "Is this a joke?", Mr. H caught me note-handed.
Apparently I wasn't very stealthy with the whole note-passing thing. In my defense, I hadn't exactly had much practice.
But the boy knew precisely what to do.
He grabbed the note, crumbled it up, and put it in his mouth.
Mr. H played along. "Well then, I expect you to chew and swallow it. You can sit down when you're done."
Now I suppose I should have swooned at the thought that a big bad senior saved my honor with the consumption of our contraband correspondence. But I was too freaked out to swoon.
After class, when he asked again, I told him to call and ask my Dad. (Oh yes, I did.) I had just passed my 15th birthday, and I figured my parents would hold fast to their rule of no single dating until 16. (Oh yes, they did.)
When I came home that evening, I told my dad a boy might call. And I made sure he planned to say no.
I just couldn't understand why a popular, good looking guy would waste time on a goody-two-shoes brainy girl like me. And to be honest, I hadn't ruled out the idea that he only asked me out on a dare. Or that he had just run out of girls to date. And neither scenario boded well for my fragile little heart.
He called that night.
My dad said no.
He offered my dad chocolates.
My dad said he didn't like chocolates. He was more of a hamburger guy.
He offered him a hamburger.
Tempting, my dad said, but still no.
(Way to stay strong, Dad.)
And that, my dear children, is how my father met your father.
The boy didn't give up. He kept asking. And though I was determined not to get my heart broken, thankfully, the boy out-determined me. He broke my heart a dozen different ways, and I fell forever in love with him before my sweet sixteen.
Six and a half years after that fateful study hall, I married that boy.
And between the two of us, we kept every note we ever passed. Well, except for that very first note of course. The one that he, uh, (how do I put this delicately?) passed twice.
It's your turn! Today's prompt is SCHOOL DAYS, but as always, you don't have to stick with the theme. Just post a picture, share a memory, or tell a story that takes us back in time, and then link up here. Remember to use the permanent link to your post, and if you'd be so kind, include a link back here in your post. (You can copy the button code on the sidebar and paste it in for an easy way to link right back to Flashback Friday.)
Next week's prompt: FIRST JOB