7.

Seven years ago, we went out to dinner, just the two of us.

I was too nervous to eat so I just had a milkshake. You laughed about it. 

We took a rainy drive and you reached over to squeeze my hand for 2 seconds during a Postal Service song... 

A move that I mentally analyzed for the remainder of the evening.

We walked on a wet path through a cold, foggy park.

I was still so nervous, I honestly thought I was going to be sick. 

I know you remember that part.

On the way home I rolled my window down, even though it was freezing and you complained, but not really. 

Your tires rode the bumps in between the lanes for a second and I realized you'd been looking at me. 

You smiled and offered some embarrassed explanation.

You know I remember that part.

We arrived back at my house with minutes to spare before my curfew. 

I awkwardly fumbled with the door of your car. 

Something about not being able to find the unlock button. 

And then you told me you liked me.

It was the best thing ever.

Happy seven, Weston.