I was fourteen.

We started talking when I posted a picture of pulled pork pulled crisps

And you somehow pulled a conversation out of it.

Maybe it was the charming way in which I told you I thought they tasted like bacon,

But we became friends.

You pointed out that we'd met two years earlier in the art department,

Where I assigned you the nickname "Art Buddy".

It wasn't long before I was throwing anything I could at you in a bid to impress you.

"I play guitar sometimes," I said,

"Cool," was the reply,

Followed by "I play piano and flute...

And I'm a World Champion at karate."

You made it a little bit tougher,

But I was learning more about you,

Like how you hate touching coins,

How you hate eggs,

How you hate PowerPoint Presentations that don't stick to a consistent theme.

A lot of people think the key is to coat words in sugar so that they come out sweet,

But I think that there's just as much value to be found in knowing what someone doesn't like

And that niceties can sometimes take a seat with small talk,

So that you can tell me more about how much egg mayonnaise disgusts you,

Pixels on a screen rearranging into words and pictures,

While my mind scrambles for another way to make you like me

And settles on giving you another nickname,

After the pixels became an article from a Google search that said

"Giving her a nickname will make her feel special."

I couldn't tell you if it's good advice or not -

I think my choice of nickname was the biggest problem.

You always told me of doing well in school,

So I renamed you "Goody Too Shoes",

Ironically using the wrong "two" by accident.

It went down a treat,

You asked me to please not call you that

And I sent the nickname idea back to the drawing board.

We found ourselves nervously eating pizza a couple of months later

And laughing nervously about salad.

When I put my arm around you in the cinema,

Something sparked.

I was a year older at that point,

Having had my birthday in the couple of months,

But the racing heart and giddy feeling rewound me to when I was ten

And I brushed the leg of the girl I fancied by accident,

Only a big deal because I fancied her.

And just like that,

Nervous boy and "Goody Too Shoes" were stitched together,

My arm becoming the seam

And as you rested your head on my shoulder,

I took a mental recording of the scene,

Because you never know what's going to happen,

So being able to look back is a treasure worth guarding.

In that moment,

I was King and you were Queen,

You make my thoughts swim,

I was fifteen.