I had never eaten peanut butter toast before I met you.
I didn’t care fo peanuts or how the spread stuck to the roof of my mouth. There was Promite and jam and Nutella, why add another to the bill?
I don’t know when I first acquired the taste.
After you moved back to our small town there was an air of mystery to you. It had been so long and yet you were the same. You had had a girlfriend and ended things well. I still hadn’t kissed a boy, or found anyone I could even picture in that way.
You lived in a nice house not far from mine. I could bike there in five minutes, tyres crunching over the mounds of red dirt.
The house was often empty in the afternoons, as most of ours were. It was too expensive for our parents not to be at work.
Between work and school, you were my favourite past time.
I have so many fond memories of our adventures after school. Our group was always happiest when we were all together; I was even happier when it was just me and you.
Doubling on the tiny stunt pegs on my bike (they left gashes for days).
Strolling the aisles of the video store, combing over the hundreds of titles we’d read the week before.
Buying excessive amounts of chocolate milk and hot chips with the best gravy in town.
Hiding downstairs in your room; you practicising songs on your guitar, always nervous to play in front of anyone else; me, just nervous.
We’d play video games and I’d always be terrible.
We’d rustle up meals of whatever we cold find in the pantry. You would always leave unloading the dishwasher until the very last minute.
Sometimes, we would speak through music; the day’s choices a reflection of our mood. You always knew what songs I would like.
I’d try so hard to hide my excitement when you showed me a new band. It felt like being given another piece to add to my ever evolving puzzle of music.
Sometimes, we’d la in bed and watch movies, our feet ever so careful not to touch.
We would always hug goodbye; I always loved your hugs.
I wonder when you figured out, that I actually loved you too?
I pretended for so long that it wasn’t true. It was friendship, loving a friend.
Everyone seemed to see right through my protests, but you never brought it up. Were you in denial too?
My love didn’t have to change anything – it wasn’t planned or wanted, it just grew.
It stayed strong; even when you flirted with other girls and made excuses not to see me. When you tried to avoid hanging out that night, despite me pleading that I was at my darkest point.
Love is a funny little thing. You think you can stomp it out with sex or a boyfriend or a move interstate, but it still lingers until its run its course.
My love for you is gone now, but my love of peanut butter remains. I can’t tell you any of this as we’re not really friends in that way anymore (were we ever?).
But I can still be grateful that once upon a time, I had you.