I am a storyteller. That is what I do. And that is what I am doing now, telling my story.

I could start off by telling you how incredibly in love my boyfriend and I are. But you wouldn't believe it cause whenever you read about the "wonderful boyfriend who has his faults but she still loves him so" you think, Oh, God, not one of these stories again. They are all the same, right? To which, I would automatically reply, no, we are different! We are special! Because every couple says that.

No, what I am going to start off with is by telling you how incredibly pissed off I was with my boyfriend on the last day of school. I had been officially ditched and officially not contacted in anyway until a best friend bugged him to. This was not the first time something like this had happened, but I let him get away with a "I'm sorry. I should've called you," as usual. Needless to say, I was quite peeved with myself as soon as the phone call was over.

The next day I went out of town to do things that require absolutely no explanation here. I came back several days later, as people often do when they leave town for just a couple days.

I returned to immediately indulge myself in a Shakespeare camp. The play which had been chosen for this year (I had been in the camp several times in years before) was Romeo and Juliet. It was not, in fact, as typical as it sounds. The camp had been known for its' crazy, filled to the brim with inside jokes, shortened versions of Shakespeare's comic plays. This year, the director wanted to do something "different".

During the next few days, I made it my specific goal to not think about my boyfriend as much as possible, as no one likes the lovesick girl who can't stop thinking about "him". It's hard to be talented and lovesick at the same time. Believe me, I've tried.

Now, I am not the type to flirt with every guy I meet; Exactly the opposite. (For the sake of privacy, I will call my boyfriend "Arthur".) I am also not the type to have crushes outside a relationship. As corny as it sounds, Arthur takes up most of my heart, so there really isn't much room for anyone else in there. However, I am the type who, when I know someone likes me in "that way", I tend to become attracted to that person, and may even get a few butterflies. And that is where my story begins.

Right off the bat I could tell that Jake was different. At first I thought that he was shy, but that was because I couldn't see his eyes. His head was down. When he lifted it up, our eyes met, and I could've sworn that he somehow walked across the room, slapped me in the face, and went back to his original position, while I was blinking. It was that much of a shock.

I remember having that experience with Arthur once. We were in Spanish class. He used to sit behind me (I almost fainted when the teacher called out the names on the seating chart) and on this particular day, he and I were both facing towards the back of the class room, pretending to listen to a slow drawl of almost-Spanish. For no apparent reason, Arthur turned around in his seat, and we made eye contact. I felt like Frodo must've felt every time the "eye" flashed through his mind when he put on The Ring… except more positive. The impact was the same.

Back at camp, we played games, we blocked scenes, we attempted to memorize lines, everything went normally, except for one aspect.

During lunch one day, I ordered a pretzel. I then went outside to hang with friends, as I knew it'd be a while before the pretzel was ready. At a random moment, I got up to check how things were going. As I walked through the door and started down the hall, I saw Jake carrying a pretzel towards me. Jake was a counselor and part of his job was selling lunch to campers, so I knew it wasn't his. He gave it to me. I told him how it was kind of weird that I came for my pretzel at the exact same time as he was bringing it to me. We laughed nervously. The next day, the exact same thing happened, nervous laugh included.

"Woah! It happened again!" I said. "We must have a mental connection or something," I joked, gesturing at our brains. It wasn't long before I began believing it to be true.

As camp progressed, I began doing a little mental math. That day, we had worked on blocking the pre-show for the play, and Jake was facilitating our group. Each time I came up with an idea, no matter how silly it was, he would say "Brilliant" or "Gold star". And he didn't seem to say it because he's the sort of guy who says "Brilliant" or "Gold star" to everybody, which he was, but not only did he say it to me far more frequently than to anybody else, he also seemed to say it to me with a certain intensity; as if he actually meant it. Besides the compliments, I began noticing that more often than not, I was sitting or standing rather near Jake whenever we gathered as a group.

If you are thinking that that was about the time I became attracted to him, you're wrong. I was rather attracted to him on the very first day, I think. I believe quite a lot of the girls (as young as most of them were) were attracted to him as well, which is to be expected because not only was he "cute" but also funny, kind, very positive, and quite the talented actor. If I remember correctly, I attempted to get rid of the original attraction after a few days, because I knew there was no point. When it seemed that a point was establishing itself, the attraction came back again.

If I hadn't already been certain that Jake did indeed like me "in that way", there was one event that proved all my theories correct. On the last day of the first week of camp, lunch commenced as usual. I stood in line, pondering what I wanted. When I reached the front of the line, Jake was at the cash register.

"Okay," I said. "I've already ordered a pretzel, so that's a pretzel and a bag of chips." I had worked out how much it would cost several minutes before. Jake looked at his order sheet, reached for a bag of chips, and then proceeded to stare at me, stuttering.

"So that's um…umm….uuummm…" he said. I tried not to laugh.

"$0.75 and $.50 is $1.25," I said, taking my chips and pretzel and rewarding him with a smile.

For a long time after, that scene kept playing over and over again in my head. No one had ever stuttered when looking at me, or at least, not in that way. It was flattering! I couldn't believe I had made the boy speechless.

My weekend was a busy one. On Friday, I called Arthur to see if he'd be at my birthday party on Saturday. He said yes and agreed to call me later that evening, which of course he failed to accomplish. On Saturday, the party started, proceeded, and ended. Nothing very special really happened. I received many exciting gifts and some not so exciting gifts. Arthur bought me a shirt: a white long sleeved shirt, verging on being a sports jacket. I saw it and thought, "Great. I can think him while I get dressed now, how romantic."

Throughout those two days, there was one event that kept popping into my mind, a scene from camp. We were playing this dancing game called "Little Sally Walker." A person gets in the middle of a circle, and everyone in the circle chants a song at him or her. The person in the middle has to go up to someone in the circle and start dancing, and the other person dances in the same way. We played and chanted and clapped and danced, and then Jake got in the middle.

As soon as he got there, I saw him look at me, and with our glances, we spoke to each other.

"I would like to dance with you," his eyes said.

"You can if you want to, and I know you want to," my eyes said.

"I do, but I better look around at everyone else first. I don't want to be too obvious." My eyes laughed. He turned around once and when his eyes left mine, I could no longer hear his thoughts. Then our eyes met again, and mine said, "I knew you'd come back to me," and we began dancing like John Travolta.

Looking back on the event, I began to wonder. How did I know what he was thinking? Did I imagine it all? Was it just facial expressions that communicated everything? But how could I almost hear the exact words if that were so? Was it just all in my head?

The next day was very difficult. Arthur had mentioned the possibility of us getting together, an opportunity which I leaped at, and called him about Saturday night. I wanted an answer and I did not want to wait, because too many times I've spent the entire day, just waiting for a phone call that I know will not arrive.

I called him. His first answer was no. But then he said "But maybe." I wanted to scream at him. I hate the phrase "But maybe" used after "no", especially in a relationship situation. A boy I once asked out (Correction: The only boy I ever asked out.) said no and promptly ended with "But maybe next year." This caused me to wait for next year to come around for three whole months, before I realized what an idiot I was, and I focused my anger with myself into hating that boy. Now that phrase "But maybe" was causing me to wait again. Because, even though my brain was screaming, he's not going to call you and you're not going to get together, my mushy love sick heart was still clinging onto those words "But maybe" and the shred of hope that was left.

The longer Sunday went on, the angrier I became at Arthur and myself. I knew that I needed to talk to him about "all this." But I also knew that every time I try to talk to him, I melt, and the harsh words I have planned, turn into unspecific and flimsy little "kind ofs" and "sortas", and I never gain the desired effect. Except for that one time.

It was when things were at their worst. I had cried. I had gotten angry. I had told him sob stories. I had given him the silent treatment, but still nothing changed. And then, on the very day I was going to break up with him, breaking my heart in the process, he cried. And things changed.

On this Sunday, I wondered why the power of those events had lost their impact. I wondered if it was time to break it off, and this time, go through with it. I wondered if Arthur even knew how truly upset I was.

All this went through my mind, endlessly, and I memorized my seventy something lines simultaneously.

I returned to camp, worried, and craving attention. As Arthur continued to not call me, I started looking to Jake for attention. I was comparing the "abusive boyfriend" with the "inviting summer fling." So, I started returning Jake's compliments. I began making sure that there was room near me so that Jake might stand next to me. He caught me staring at him almost as often as I caught him staring at me.

But each day, when I left camp, I would tell myself that I had to stop what I was doing, and think of Arthur, for I knew that he wasn't really abusive. Outside of camp, I would make up my mind to act as just a friend towards Jake, and nothing more. And yet, camp took up seven hours in the day, and in those seven hours, another world was created. What happened there seemed to have no effect on the rest of reality. It felt like a dream.

Then, one night, I dreamed about Arthur. I don't remember it now, but I woke up missing him. I thought that it was a bad sign that I had spent the last two days not missing him without effort. I later realized that was because I was so stressed out, my mind didn't have room for spells of pining. I called him during lunch, giving myself the excuse that I was inviting his family to come to the show. No on answered. The next day I tried again, and managed to get a hold of him. He would be coming to the next days' performance.

Although Jake had seemed to back off somehow, there was still a substantial amount of flirting taking place. I began developing the most annoying giggle, sounding a bit like choking on a hiccup with a squeak, followed by a gasp, which I hated myself for, but Jake didn't seem to mind it. I had no idea what Jake's reaction to Arthur would be, or if there would even be a reaction.

The next day, after the show, as I stood with Arthur, beaming from the inside out, I both wished Jake would see us, and dreaded him seeing us. Though there was little obvious cuddling going on between us, the way I was smiling should've been a dead give away of our togetherness. Fortunately, Jake seemed to be no where in sight, until later.

A miracle occurred in the form of Arthur being able to stay and not having somewhere he had to immediately run off to, which was the usual case. Instead he stayed while our director gave notes. (The director claimed it would only be five minutes, and what he meant by this was that it would take half an hour or more, which it did.) Arthur and I found seats in the audience together, and a friend of mine sat on the other side of me.

All of the sudden, Jake comes along. He walks down our row, stops in front of me, looks at Arthur on my right and my friend on my left, flounders and flails a bit, and concludes with "Ah, screw it," as he settled for sitting in the chair on Arthur's right side. It was a moment before I realized what this whole scene meant.

It was quite symbolic actually: A friend on one side, a boyfriend on the other. Jake did not fit in either category, meaning, sadly, that there is no place for him. But what floored me was where he ended up sitting. He did not go and look for another friend to sit with. He sat as close by to me as was possible. And in such a situation, you would expect that he would take advantage of sitting there and chat with me, over Arthur's lap. But he did no such thing. He seemed to be happy to simply sit one body away from me. He did not know the magnitude of the barrier between us. But it became clear to him as the hour progressed.

It was inevitable that at some point, Arthur would show some sign of affection towards me. When he did, I smiled at him, but my eyes darted to Jake. He was looking straight ahead, patting his leg with his hand, his lips moving, and I knew he had seen.

Over the two weeks of camp, Jake and I had seemed to come to a mutual understanding through eye contact and subtle hints. We seemed to be able to communicate with each other, silently, and without others noticing. No notes were passed. Not a single word was spoken out loud about "us." And yet, with our eyes, we were always telling each other "I am interested in you. I can't do anything about it now, but please don't go."

Now, as I looked at Jake muttering silently, I could feel his thoughts. He thought he had imagined it all. He thought that he had misinterpreted my behavior towards him as something special. I knew how angry he was with himself, without a word from him. I could almost hear him cursing. And he never looked at me. He didn't want to look in my eyes and see the thoughts about Arthur.

How I wanted him to look at me, if only to know that I was sorry. I wanted desperately to talk to him out loud, but that was out of the question. Instead, I had to let him keep thinking that he was wrong, when really, I had betrayed him.

From then on, the connection that we once had was broken off. No longer did I find him sitting near me. No longer did he compliment each thing I did. No longer did I catch his gaze and see his thoughts. And on the last performance date, without more than a casual goodbye and a handshake, I watched Jake walk away from me, presumably forever.

I wanted to tell Arthur, oh, how I wanted to tell Arthur. I almost did, several times. I only got as far as telling him that there was a boy at camp who seemed to like me. I could not say that I liked him back. And when we were together in my room, everything was quiet, peaceful, and beautiful, I thought of Jake, and I had to fight back tears as I thought of what I had done to him and Arthur, both.

What hurts me most is when I find myself wishing I could bump into Jake again, someday on the street, so that I might talk to him, and see what arose out of our conversation. I try to understand why it is that if I went back in time and did it all over again, I know I would do the same thing. Perhaps it is the idea of forbidden romance, searching for clues, wondering, hoping. Until one day, you are left alone in a room with your loved one, and your kiss is accompanied by powerful music, like it is in the movies. But why do I want something out of the movies when I know that they are not real? Jake had that in him, the forbidden romance, and the promise of that drew me to him.

But Arthur had something that Jake did not. During a performance, I sat on a couch with Jake and several others, looking at a magazine. I leaned in to look at it. This meant sitting very very close to Jake. And although in my mind I was thinking, hey, I'm really near Jake now, this is awkward, huh, I wonder what he's feeling, I did not actual feel anything special.

With Arthur, the first day I knew that I liked him in "that way" was when I happened to be sitting with him, in the very same building, on that same carpet, and I happened to be sitting very close to him. We were about an inch apart, much closer than I would normally let a boy get to me. But there we were, sitting close, neither of us moving. When suddenly, it struck me as odd. Why wasn't I moving? Because I was comfortable. More than comfortable, in fact I liked sitting near him. It made me feel tingly all over. Why did sitting near him do this? Because I liked him. All this and I wasn't even touching him. And so began our "romance".

What Jake and I had was electricity. But I know that that kind of romantic energy burns away much too quickly. What Arthur and I have has already lasted us two years and has not decreased in power.

Finding a name for what we have is more difficult because it is so different from anything else in my life. When I wrote a poem about this party of my life, I tried to describe what Arthur is to me, which I found to be very difficult. I wrote and scribbled and crossed out, until I came upon a phrase that appealed to me.

"He is a lifetime of golden memories."

Two years! Can you believe that? I know that he sounds like a complete jerk and that I shouldn't have any reason for wanting to stay with him. The only way I can explain it is by saying that his bad side is what onlookers remember, and his good side is what I remember, and to me, there is more good in him than bad. Believe me, I have felt ever heart wrench, every period of loneliness, every spasm of pain whenever he forgot to call to their full extent, but I can still remember the good things in him. That's how good they are. That is something real that I can cling onto when the bad times set in. With Jake, I could only cling onto the hope that he did like me in that way, and I wasn't just imagining the whole thing.

To me, even if it isn't as pretty, reality is more solid than a dream.