I realized today that I don’t want to marry him. But I’m going to do it anyway. I mean, we are pretty deep into this thing. Tom and I grew up together. Our parents were the best of friends, and we lived next door to one another. I suspect that a lot of that friendship was due to convenience since they fought like cats and dogs, but I didn’t care as long as I had Tom around. When we’d run out into the fields and play hide and seek, I’d always climb into the tallest tree I could find. And when he finally figured out where I was, I’d tease him for awhile because I knew that he couldn’t climb trees worth a lick. I knew it was because he was scared of heights, even if he couldn’t admit it yet. And like clockwork, he’d tackle me to the ground once I finally came down, and we’d wrestle until someone cried uncle. He never treated me like a girl. And I always appreciated that.

By the time we were in high school, everyone assumed that we were together, no matter how many times we denied it. We were just good friends. Like peas in a pod. Like sardines in a can. But everything changed the day when he started dating Michelle Hodgkins. He opened doors for her. And I felt like puking the first time I saw them walking down the street holding hands, his jacket around her shoulders. He never treated me like that. And until that moment, I never wanted him to.

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