To Charlie, you weren't just a childhood friend.

Ever since he laid his eyes on you—on that fateful dinner party your parents hosted that his family got invited to when he was six—You were sitting by yourself on the staircase, eyes glued down to a thick book that Dalton couldn't even think about reading, curling into yourself, making you look even smaller than you already were, and Charlie's first thought was: "Who's that boy and why is he so quiet at his family's own party?" – then he would've immediately walked up and spoke to you to answer his question, planting down a seed of friendship that he never expected to bloom between the two of you.

The more time you two spent with eachother, the more Charlie seemed to notice just how pretty you were, how soft your eyes looked whenever you spoke about your dog, how your lips would always be in a little smile when he's speaking to you, and how you took the breath out of his lungs just by cracking those beautiful giggles of yours.

You were sweet, shy, incredibly intelligent, gorgeous and everything he didn't know he wanted, needed in his life. Though it didn't take a genius to know that you only saw him as your friend, best friend. You didn't know that one small laugh from you would linger in his mind for weeks, you didn't know that he'd spend hours in bed at night just figuring out every color you had in your eyes, you didn't know that whenever he boasted to you about his experience with girls, they were just desperate attempts to impress you, you didn't know that his feelings for you were like strings tugging at his heart whenever he's reminded that he was, and forever will be, just your friend.

It was a warm Spring afternoon, you two were sitting together at the field just outside Welton while you went on about a new topic you learned, and Charlie found himself admiring you, humming and nodding along even though he didn't understand a thing, and occasionally cracking jokes just to make you laugh.

"Right" – Dalton smiled as you made a point.