It was May 28th, years ago, when I came back from a long summer trip. As I walked through the door, my friend Jamal, already lounging on the couch, called me to play some GTA Online. But instead of feeling excited, I found myself crying. Tears streamed down my face because the memories of her, Christa, flooded back.
My summer trip wasn’t all sunshine and happiness. I met someone I truly loved for the first time. Or at least, I thought I did. Christa… or so I believed, after being lied to by many around me.
The trip started at this beautiful campsite. I had wandered into the kitchen, hungry for food and possibly justice. I ended up eating all the camp snacks, completely unbothered by the occasional laughter of people who noticed me. But just as I reached for the last pie, a girl grabbed me and pulled me into the girls’ choir room. It was a little embarrassing, but I didn’t care much—at least that’s where the snacks were. She accused me of lurking, and I ended up in front of a group of girls, all of them staring at me as if I were a weirdo.
The court-like atmosphere felt absurd, with jam all over my face. As I nervously laughed, my sister showed up, and suddenly I felt a glimmer of hope. She always had a way of making things better. I cracked a smile, and so did the girls. But when my sister asked, “What are you doing here?” and I answered “I was just hungry,” everything took a turn for the worse. They all looked at me with suspicion, and I realized I’d dug myself deeper.
I explained myself as best I could, pointing to the fridge, trying to show I was simply hungry for food, not something else. But my explanation fell flat. The night was cold and rainy outside, but I couldn’t help but feel the weight of my mistakes. I was ready to give up when one of the girls, a blonde with blue eyes, stepped in to defend me, “I saw him eating the snacks earlier,” she said.
Her name was Christa, and suddenly, everything felt lighter. We started talking, mainly about gaming—GTA and Call of Duty. The conversation flowed easily, and I started to feel more at ease around her. The night passed, and everyone went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I grabbed my bike and rode around the campsite, trying to distract myself from thinking about her.
Suddenly, I had a challenge pop into my mind: “Ride as fast as you can around the entire site, and she’s yours.” So, I sped around, racing past the bonfire and the choir building. But at my peak speed, I hit something and was launched into the air, flipping mid-flight before crashing to the ground. The pain was immediate, but I was too dazed to process what happened. When I limped back to my bike, I found that I had crashed into a water pipe, breaking it and flooding the area.
The next morning, I woke up sore and bruised. Despite the pain, I couldn’t shake the thought of Christa. I saw her at the pool, but by the time I got there, she had already left. Feeling disappointed, I ate chips with a group of guys who had made fun of me before. I wasn’t interested in their conversation about bikini babes, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Christa.
Later that day, I found myself in the choir room again, alone, raiding the fridge for more snacks. But this time, I was caught by one of the girls, who informed me that the rest of the girls were washing dishes elsewhere. I shrugged it off and returned to my cabin, feeling like a fool.
The days went on, and Christa and I grew closer. We shared laughs, played games, and had pillow fights with the other girls. I began to notice her growing interest in me, but I wasn’t sure how to react. We sat together, watching TikTok videos, and for the first time in my life, I felt what it meant to be truly comfortable around a girl.
On the last night of the trip, there was a massive bonfire, and Christa and I watched it together. It was the coldest night, but I didn’t mind when she hugged me for warmth. As the fire burned brightly, I felt my heart race. She leaned in, and for a split second, I thought she might kiss me. Instead, it was just a gentle peck on my cheek.
The next morning, I had to leave. My parents arrived to pack up, and as we drove away from the campsite, I found myself desperately searching for a glimpse of Christa one last time. I never got the chance to give her my number, and now it was too late. I went home, but the memories lingered. Later that day, I broke down in front of Jamal, telling him the whole story. He was shocked, but he also seemed proud of me for opening up.
Two years later, I still regret not giving Christa my number. I’ve grown more confident since then, but that summer remains a bittersweet memory of my first and last crush. The guys I had once been shy around? One of them married my sister, and we’ve since become good friends. I’ll always remember that summer as a turning point in my life, a time when I learned more about myself than I ever expected.
