He wasn’t anything special. There were no fireworks, romantic music, or thoughts of love at first sight when I met him. I didn’t even notice him, actually. Not when I walked in the class, and not the week that followed. Not until we were grouped together for a project. He was just the quiet guy, and I paid him no attention.

I didn’t like him. As soon as we starting working on this project, he decided to take control. That was my job. I was the 4.0 student, the natural born leader, and he was a sophomore, anyways. What gave him authority? But I let him. He seemed to know what he was doing, and the class, music theory, was my one weak spot.

But of course, I couldn’t let him do all the work. I volunteered to do the computer stuff. “Put your number in my phone,” I told him, “In case I have any questions.”
“How about you put my number in your phone.” He said, not even bothering to turn from the piano. I punched in the numbers as he recited them out loud. I didn’t like him. But I called him for help.

I can’t tell you exactly when it happened. Maybe it was when me and my best friend were discussing the look he got, when he played piano and sung, both of which he did excellently. Maybe when I saw him smile at his girlfriend, or when I saw the way she rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe it was when I heard him sing, that first time, in front of our whole school, his wonderfully deep voice projecting gracefully across the vast theater. But I fell in love. Headfirst, with no warnings.

We started talking every night. We didn’t have much in common, but something about him made me feel good. I loved his voice, I loved his personality. He made me feel special, and when I talked to him, the world seemed to fade away, and all that was left was me and him.

He broke up with his girlfriend, who he convinced me was just a friend anyways. We didn’t claim the title of ‘being together’, because that was stupid, and our relationship was between me and him, anyways; the rest of the world didn’t have to know.

It was great, for all of one month. I felt special, cared about, and I was head over heels in love with him. He called me beautiful, not sexy, or hot, frequently told me he loved me, called me every night just to say goodnight, and, best of all, he sang to me. His voice was enough to take me to cloud nine and fall asleep there forever.

But then it ended. He still loved her, he still wanted to be with her, and that’s exactly what he did.

I still love him. Once you love someone, that love never goes away. Sometimes, I wish I could just hear his voice, softly singing to me. That voice that used to make my heart melt and the problems of the world fade away.