But I was bold enough to ask for his number. I happily brought him water while he played basketball. I pushed my way into the student council just to get closer to him. Before long, I became his little follower.
Everyone called me a simp, but I didn't care. As long as I could be his girlfriend, it was all worth it.
We finally started dating, and in the blink of an eye, ten years passed.
From eighteen to twenty-eight, I gave him the best years of my life.
He was a picky eater and hated restaurant food, so I made cooking my mission. I experimented with recipes every day, bouncing from one cooking class to another.
He didn't like clingy girls, so I never chatted with him for long. Even when I didn't want to hang up, I would keep it brief. If I wanted to watch a movie with him, I'd book it at least a week in advance, just so I wouldn't mess up his schedule.
He didn't like dealing with chores, so I handled everything, serving him like a young master, never letting him lift a finger.
When he was in a bad mood and wanted to be alone, I would stay far away, barely daring to breathe.
I tiptoed around him for ten years.