The beginning of the story goes like this.

I think it was your brown and white Ascics that originally attracted me to you. I hate to admit it because it sounds really shallow, but shoes have always been kind of a big deal to me. If your shoes had been ugly, that would have been a deal breaker. Maybe I wouldn't have fallen for you if you were wearing steel toed boots, or skate shoes stuffed with extra socks. The Ascics were kind of my style. I thought they were cute. They weren't conspicuous or obnoxious, they were just intriguing and nice looking. Like you.

I always felt like you were too cool for me. I felt that way about most people in high school. I had braces and I was kind of a tomboy, there was no way I was cool enough to compete with cheerleaders and those paradoxically smart and popular M.U.N kids. Basically, I wasn't really a big deal. You didn't talk to me or look at me in class, and I never expected you to. I was content with admiring your shoes from the back of the row next to yours. When we would watch movies in class I'd sit back in my chair and watch you daydream instead, the light from the TV turning you a lovely shade of blue in the cool darkness of the classroom. I'd imagine myself cooler, more interesting and possibly better looking, sauntering over to the empty desk next to you and having a seat. In my imagination I was terribly suave and would win you over with my smile (braces-less, of course, in my fantasy), and then we would make out in the flickering TV light. Then class would end and that would be that.

I remember the first time we spoke. It must have been almost halfway through the school year before we ever exchanged words. I don't remember how the conversation started, but we talked about movies. I said I liked foreign films. You said you did, too. I told you i liked your shoes. You laughed in that way that I'd later come to know very well, the way you laugh when you feel self conscious about something. Looking back I realize that you may not have thought I was being sincere, and I wish I could go back and say "No, really. I do like your shoes, a lot." Nevertheless, that little meaningless conversation was the start of something much bigger, something that would become so important to me I couldn't possibly have fathomed it at the time. I remember being giddy as I left class that day.

Recently you told me how you liked me a lot in high school. I didn't really believe you when you told me. I wish I had known then what I know now. It may have saved me a lot of heartache to know that you were as into me as I was into you. We might not have ended up in this position we're in now- me broken hearted and you turned off by all the things I did to try and get over you, because I thought you didn't like me. I wish you would have told me sooner. I've liked you since the day we met, since the day we first talked. I like you still. Now I can only hope for you to change your mind. My offer still stands. I would love you, I would be good to you.

You and me, we could really be something.