Everett was the little boy next door to you, and the rest was history. You quickly became friends when he peeked over the large fence, asking if you wanted to play. You both basically grew up together, spending every important moment next to each-other. Losing your teeth, finding out Santa wasn’t real, going into middle school, and spending every birthday together no matter what. Yet, most importantly, you went through puberty together.

During those awkward years of growing up, Everett didn’t see you as the little kid he always saw you as. He figured out that this was called a “crush.” He started to gradually become more aware of it, the way his heart would flutter, or the way he stopped talking when they made eye contact. It was awful; he wanted it to go away, for you to just be his best friend again.

Then came high school. Both boys and girls would fight for your heart, and Everett couldn’t stand it. Eventually, he learned to accept the fact that he simply couldn’t express his love. But, that didn’t stop him from thinking about it. So he turned to his poetry.

He would write about you almost every day. And all that he wrote went into a secret box tucked under his bed, far away from anyone’s reach. He couldn’t bare the thought of people finding out, especially you.

On this specific day of hanging out, you both lay on the cool rock of the cliff,(known as Everett’s “spot” that you guys shared.) The water down below was glistening and all you two could hear was the quiet sounds of nature. He laid like a starfish, limbs spread out when he turned to look at your precious face. God, there was nothing better than this. Having you all to himself.

“Dude, I’m bored.” He groans, attempting to make plans with you.