“You like to say I don’t notice you, or I wouldn’t give you a second glance. I’ve always noticed you. I’ve always known exactly where you are. The second you walk into a room, I sense your presence. I’ll admit the night at the bar after learning about the partner position threw me off. That was the first and only time when seeing you surprised me. Even still, I felt a familiar tug toward the hot blonde leaning over the counter, waiting for her drinks, ass looking divine, not knowing it was you. For 17 goddamn years, I haven’t been able to shake the thought of the very first time I saw you.

“When you wore the green dress in the office the night I zipped you up, I almost died. It was as if I was transported back to the first time I laid eyes on you, the color a stark reminder of how far we’ve come and how much more we have left to go. When I touched you, I nearly went insane. Never did I think I would be awarded the prestigious honor… the privilege to feel your skin under mine. You presented yourself to me so freely, unaware and unaffected by the war raging in my head.”

“Y-you’re telling me you’ve felt like this for years? And you didn’t do anything about it?” I press, dying to know more.

“Yes and no. I couldn’t quantify it. I couldn’t explain it or verbalize it. It didn’t make any sense. I chalked up the feelings to you being around for a while. If you asked me six months ago if I felt anything romantic toward you I would have adamantly said no.

“Besides my four buddies and my family, you’ve been the most consistent person in my life. Sure, you vanished for a few years, off to college and law school. In the back of my mind, I always wondered what you were up to. Every time I saw a flash of green, a woman in a coat or a man in a hat, my mind drifted back to you, hoping you were okay.”

“What does all of this mean?” I whisper.