"I like you"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A love story that traces way back to second grade. The sweet sorrow of William and Juliet. Enjoy your reading

Submitted: May 29, 2016

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Submitted: May 29, 2016

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I Like You

by Amanda L. S.

(SweetStories)

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 “Will, time to make your speech.”

 My hands shook and my throat tightened. But I got up from my seat placed in the first row and took one more deep breath. I was actually doing this. Not for me and not for them, but for her.

 I now stood in front of all those staring eyes. I felt the weight of the world, like all seven billion people were staring straight at me.

 I took the mic.

 This is all for her, just remember.

 “I met Juliet in second grade, actually. And loved her ever since. I still remember what she looked like back then. Her two pigtails tied with ladybug hair clips. Her rosy cheeks and her huge grin. Her red and white polka dotted dress with a little white seater went perfectly-ridiculous with those white sneakers of hers.

 “Honestly, it was ‘love at first sight’. I just didn’t realise at the moment because, well, we were in second grade! I realised at a young age that I liked this girl. And taking action to affect the outcome was, and still is, the best decision I ever made. Because I was in love. And I don’t care what you say. This is OUR love story, if you’re not happy with it, go get your own. But this is ours.”

 I looked around the half empty room. I saw an elderly couple roll their eyes and look at each other. But I didn’t care. I went on.

 “Anyway, that night I went home and took all the candy hearts from the glass bowl my mother kept them in. I had a plan. I glued all the hearts onto a bright purple colored paper until they eventually formed the words ‘I like you’. But didn’t say who it was from. The next day was Valentine’s Day, the perfect day to give it to her. Putting it on her desk, I quickly hid behind the closet door and watched as she walked over to this mysterious bright colored paper.

 “She read it and had the biggest smile ever. I watched as she gently tucked it into her bag.”

 A complete douchebag-looking guy in the seventh row did one of those,

“*cough*Stalker!*cough*. Oh, my apologies, I’m coming down with something. I meant, stalker!”

 I rolled my eyes, I wouldn’t let anyone get to me. This was for her, all for her.

 I continued our short story-long love story, “I continued doing this each Valentine’s Day, just with a different message each time. It went on and on until we were best friends in high school. Juliet still had no idea who any of them were from. She thought she was in love with this mysterious person. But hey, she was only in high school, what could she possibly know about love?

“A few years later, we were both seniors. And I was still doing the same Valentine’s Day mystery. I had to tell her it was me all this time. It may just have been my last chance. So, the night before Valentine’s Day, I made a sign out of candy hearts, glue, and bright purple-colored construction paper and formed the words, ‘Be Mine, Valentine?’. I took up all the courage I had and went up to the beautiful girl the next day and confronted her.

 “I gave her the note. She said yes.

 “Even after we were dating, I continued leaving candy heart-written notes on Valentine’s Day.

 “Fast forward five years, I painstakingly picked out all the candy hearts and glued them onto a white piece of paper, until they all spelt out ‘Juliet, will you marry me?’. I had to get some custom made, but it was worth it. Because she said yes.”

 I stopped for a second, I wasn’t interrupted this time, I just stopped. I smiled, looking down at my black shiny, special-occasion-only shoes.

 “One of our-especially my- favorite quotes from our favorite tv show, How I Met Your Mother, says ‘The are two big days in any love story. The day you meet the girl of your dreams and the day you marry her.’ And for me, those two days were fifteen years apart.

 “I kept leaving notes on Valentine’s Day, even when we were married. And Juliet kept loving them.

 “I promise, I’m almost done. Fast forward one last time, forty-five years later. Juliet being in the hospital.

 And this is where I stopped. And I looked over at the casket. It seemed empty even though I knew there was a lifeless body in there.

 “No, no, NO! I CAN’T DO THIS!!” I snapped.  

 I couldn’t take it any more. Her being it there, yet not. Everyone staring at me. My heart couldn’t take it. I wasn’t supposed to be here.

 

 I ran out the door, not looking back. I ran and ran.

 Eventually, I made it to the very park where we got married. I sat on the old wooden bench with our names carved into the seat. William + Juliet till the end of time.

 Tears ran down my face which later turned into sobs.

 I buried my face into my palms and let out a wail.

 I just sat there, sobbing.

 Eventually, I took a look up, tears running down my face. I saw the blurry-fied (due to tears) hospital we were just in a few weeks ago in the skyline.

 

 “Juliet, I love you”

 “I know you do Will, and I hope you know that I love you too.”

 “I do.”

 I looked up at the hospital’s calendar. February 14th.

 The day it all started.

 And the day it was all going to end.

 I held a bag full of candy hearts. I poured them all out and picked out the specific ones I needed. I worked with what I had and glued them onto a cancer brochure. I arranged the hearts until they spelt out the words ‘I like you.’

 I gave it to her. She let out a laugh, a breathy, rattling odd -sounding laugh.

 The hospitable room was now silent apart from the heart monitor. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . . . Beep. The beeps got farther and farther apart each second.

 Juliet looked at me. She no longer having her pigtails tied together with ladybug clips. But having no hair whatsoever. Her not having rosy cheeks and a huge grin. But a pale face and a sad frown with a slight smile after looking at me. And her not having her red and white polka dotted dress with a little white seater went perfectly-ridiculous with those white sneakers of hers. But instead, a plain and boring hospitable dress.

 She took out a small piece of paper from the drawer beside her bed. It was a colorful purple and worn-out. I remembered making it in second grade. I couldn’t believe that she kept it all these years.

 She placed the little piece of paper in my hands.

 I turned it over.

 Candy hearts read out “I like you too.” I smiled at her.

Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . . . . Beep . . . . . . Beep . . . . .Beep . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 



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