Nearly all of high school parties are typical. Many occur in a compacted, crammed room or basement big enough to fit the amount of bodies I can count on my hands, if that. The one I was at was different. To be honest, I didn’t categorize this as a party, just a small get-together and everyone attending was someone I felt comfortable around. I felt reassured having my closest friends and my boyfriend who I just started dating not too long ago in sight.

Everyone is doing the whole party thing; dancing, talking, listening to the booming music coming out loudly from the speaker. Within my first few minutes of being there, I began to feel like an oven was baking on 550 degrees fahrenheit right besides me, like a monster was breathing hot air directly onto my neck. I felt dampness from the drizzled sweat. My face was warm and I couldn’t tell if it was from the bodies in motion around me or if it was because my anxiety was increasing at a rapid pace. Developing anxiety at parties was something that never changed, despite the difference in setting that night. My mouth was dry and my throat felt tight. I hoped nobody had been aware my face turning red, but it wasn’t too long after that thought crossed my mind that somebody had noticed.

I felt someone walk up from behind me, a gesture I was uncomfortable with. A hand roughly grabbed my shoulder and yanked me backwards. Startled, I turned around to see who decided to touch me so belligerently only to see a favorite face.

Seeming concerned, Maddy curiously inquired, “Al, are you alright? You look sick, babe.”

Sarcastic as always, I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, it’s just so warm in here. Thanks for looking out for me though Mad, love ya.”

“Love you more!” She hyperly skipped away.

I couldn’t tolerate the heat anymore. I slowly dragged myself toward the back bedrooms and the bathroom, shifted to the left, and entered the nearest room. I could already feel the volume from the party being muted. I heard footsteps behind me and when I glared nonchalantly, I couldn’t help but get a knot of butterflies in my tummy. It was Richard Baker. I didn’t know what it was about him that made me feel the way I did. Maybe it was the way his hair flowed and was arranged around his face. Maybe it was his facial features always glowing. Maybe it was those jeans and that white tee shirt he was wearing that made my heart melt. But let me tell you, it had to have been something because I was infatuated by that crooked smile that laid so perfectly on his face.

Immediately sitting down when I detected a couch in the corner, Richard stood in front of me. The moon light was focused in straight into the attic-sized room, shining and reflecting off of his pale smooth looking skin. I looked up to see his deep, dark eyes gazing into mine. The eye contact we had made was intense and I found myself hopelessly lost in his soft but intimidating perception. I could feel the color of my face start to return to its normal color. Being away from the hot, humid air containing several people made me appreciative to be in a cool breezed room with Richard.

He gently picked up both of my hands and put them perfectly aligned in his. I slowly rose to my feet since he had indicated that he wanted me to stand and be parallel to where he was positioned. Being in his presence gave me the chills. It wasn't like how it was with anyone else, he was different. It wasn’t much of a secret that he had something to say, that he had something eating at his mind.

“What’s on your mind?” I questioned, sounded as calmly as I could.

He gave me a crooked, awkward but cute smile. “I feel like I love you.” He paused, licked his lips, then continued his seem to be unplanned speech seconds after. “I do love you. I love you, Alexandra.” He was so sincere and I was so surprised.

I didn’t respond for a minute because I was at loss of words. I scrambled as quick as I could through my head, trying to collect and arrange the right words into the right sentence. Was I supposed to say it back? Of course I was. I think the real question doing laps in my head was "Am I ready?" We haven't been dating for very long, only a few weeks but I was feeling how he was. I just didn't want to acknowledge or admit it. I was drowning in my detailed thoughts. When I realized that I couldn’t make him wait any longer for an answer to his expression, I finally spoke.

“I love you, Richard.” I announced it quietly enough that I was unsure if he heard me or not. I probably could have also made it sound more believable or maybe more “romantic”. But, I said it how I said it and there was no going back from there.

He pushed the left side of my thick, frizzy hair behind my ear, scooped my face with his hand, and softly kissed me.

I'm convinced this was the most exhilarating experience that I have ever been lucky enough to experience. I’ve never had this rush feeling through my entire body. A good feeling would be a severe understatement. It was more than just a feeling or a special moment. This was a heavy impact. No one has ever looked me in my unstimulating brown eyes and told me that they had love for me. I always wondered how or when this moment would come around for the first time. It was one of those times where you know you're uncontrollably smiling but you have that "I don't care" personality. Perfect was too easy of a word. It was faultless, flawless, free.

This was square one and a new start while it was also an ambivalent beginning.