Fourteen years old, holding onto a boy whom i thought I loved. We spun around and held each other tight. Dancing under the cheesy lights to “the dance” by garth brooks. He smiled at me and moved closer until there was not even an inch of room between us. I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled back at him. His freckles spread across his face, his strawberry blonde hair slicked back. A button down that his mom had clearly made him wear. He looked adorable. We were having an amazing time. Dancing to every song that came on, but this specific song, I’ll never forget. Because as garth sang “and our lives, are better left to chance…” The boy whom I thought my heart would belong to forever leaned in, and touched his soft lips to mine. I’ll never forget the awkward thoughts of not knowing the appropriate time to pull away. This is the moment I believe I became a hopeless romantic.