Perhaps it began when she heard his grandparents cursing at the TV in Polish. When she asked him what they were saying and he blushed as he told her, they said fuck. When his mother cried as he blew out his candles on his fifteenth birthday.
Perhaps it began when she was standing in her loft, chunking berries into the chili her mother had left out on the stove. When he was leaning against her and she turned her head to look at him sideways and he was laughing and his teeth weren't perfect.
Perhaps it began when she stayed up till four in the morning, composing a bucket list of things they were supposed to do together. Things like; go to prom, get in the car and just go someplace new and make out in an elevator. Things that never happened but could have.
Perhaps it began when she put her shirt on backwards and he kissed her on the forehead and she grabbed his hat and put it on her head.
Perhaps it began when she walked him to his front door with the excuse of needing to see his dog whom she claimed to be in love with. When she dubbed him "Kiddo."
Perhaps in began when he held her in the ocean because she couldn't reach the bottom. When he beat her in volleyball. When he threw sand at her and then came over to wipe it off her face with his thumb.
Perhaps it began when he put his hand on the small of her back so that he could get past her. When he held her hand in front of his older brother. When she kissed him on her front porch and he whispered, thank you.
Or perhaps it began when he said, I'm an atheist and liked her even though she was a Jesus-freak.
Perhaps, it was much simpler than all of these events.
Maybe, it was a combination of everything.
Surely, it couldn't be pinpointed.
It was love after all.
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