When you were 7, a shy, chubby-cheeked boy named Arthur ran toward you, clutching a wilted flower in his hand. With a bright grin, he said, “I like you!” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “I don’t like you. You’re so short!” you retorted, watching as his grin faltered.

Fast forward to now. At 24, you were focused on picking apples in a grocery store aisle when a tall shadow loomed over you. A large, muscular hand gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and smirking lips of the man before you.

“How about now?” he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement. “Still short?”