Warning: Hey, I know this isn’t very good – ‘tas written many, many moons ago and recently rediscovered on an old CD (remember those?). Seriously, it's a miracle this guy ever gets any action at all. But believe you me, it was way more embarrassing/painful for me to read that than it would be for you. Still, I miss that sweet, stupid lovable loser lad..anyhoo, to the story….

Jonathan was a smart guy. Most of the time, at least.

“Uh,” he said. She didn’t look impressed.

He couldn’t help it. He was in love.

It was an amazing feeling, and a very confusing one, too. He had never wanted to fall in love; it had just happened. Now that it happened, though, he was glad that he had done it.

Her name was Emily.

He had only known her for a few days, but he was sure she was the girl for him. He had never been surer of anything in his life than he was of this. He had never even known that a feeling like this was possible.

He had come to Atlanta as part of the athletics team which would participate in the Interstates Games. He didn't really know any of his teammates, and he felt a bit uncomfortable, knowing that he wasn't exactly one of the best runners there. At first he stuck to Mustafa, his only real friend there, but he soon began making new friends – they were fun folks, mostly, once you got to know them. Good thing, too, or else he would never have met her.

Emily.

They’d met through Claire, one of those folks who seemed to know everybody who was anybody within five minutes of arriving anywhere (how did she do that? he often found himself wondering). At first, Jon had looked at Emily as just another pretty girl – caramel skin, black hair, friendly grey-green eyes, easy smile. For some reason, though, they had quickly become great friends.

Three days in, he was spending almost all his free time with her. They talked for hours; they sat together on the bus; they ate together (slowly, and with lots of almost-witty conversation); they listened to the radio in her room, dancing delightedly (and badly). They had so much in common (kind of), and they got along so well it was like they’d known each other for years.

He began (he thought) to fall in love with her (maybe).

Now the Games were over. They would be leaving for home early the next morning. But tonight would be the long-awaited end-of-Games party. Everybody would be going – and he planned to go with her.

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Party time.

Jon and some of his fellow teammates went together, but he didn't dance. He was waiting for Emily. A couple hours went by. Everybody else partied. Eventually, he decided to go back to the hotel and read a book. On the way there, he met Emily.
“Hey, Emmy,” he greeted her. “Where you been?”
“I wasn't going at all,” she responded, “I just came to get you.”
“What for?”
“There's a cool movie on. I just need some company to enjoy it properly.”
“And I'm the company you need?” Perfect. “Sure.”

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It was a cool movie – a classic, actually, featuring a bunch of guys who weren't afraid of no ghosts saving the day with awesome ray guns. They watched it under the watchful eye of Mustafa and a few of Emily's friends. They held hands all the way through, laughed loudly at all the funny bits (and there were plenty of those). Eventually, the others started coming back from the party. Emily went off with some of her friends, and Jonathan went off with some of his.

An hour or so later, he decided to go to bed and get some rest – they'd be leaving early in the morning. He lay in bed for a while, thinking about everything that had happened to him on this trip. He considered the opportunities he'd had, and all that he'd done with them. He sighed..

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A knock on his door startled him out of his reverie. He glanced at his alarm clock: it obstinately persisted in reading three-thirty. He sighed, got up, staggered over to the door. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” he muttered. Tired, grumbling, he opened the door.

It was Emily.

“Hi,” she smiled at him.

“Uh, hi,” he said, more than a little bit surprised, and still a little groggy. “Come on in.”

She stepped in, looked around. “Nice place,” she said, smiling slightly.

“It's not normally this neat,” he returned, “but I've been packing up.”

“What time you leaving tomorrow?”

“Oh, about sixish.”

“Well,” she said, “we're leaving around five-thirty, so I probably won't see you then.”

“Don't worry,” he said, “I'll get up early just to see you off.”

“I've got a souvenir for you,” she said, holding out a packet. “It's my club t-shirt and some of the photos I took.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking them from her. He scanned the room: “I don't think there's anything here I can give you in return, except...ah, here, you can have my flag, my cup, and my gold chain.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, taking them from him.

“Yep, I'm sure. Never been surer.”

Emily gave him an unreadable look – her eyes were twinkling. “You know,” she said, “I came here to do something.”

He was having trouble concentrating – he was so tired, and she smelled so good. He smiled: “What's that?”

“No, it was nothing.” She looked away. “Really. It's not important.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, slightly uncomfortable. “You can tell me.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Let's just forget it.”

“If you say so.” He got up and walked to the desk. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She smiled, looked around the room. “Need any help packing?”

“Not really, no.”

They spoke about trivial things for a while. About seeing each other again at the next Championships.
“That's if I can qualify,” he grinned.
Emily looked away briefly, then back again. She spoke.
“This is what I came here to do.”

She stretched her arms out behind his head, tousling his hair with her slender fingers. His heart was was pounding, his blood was boiling; his mind deserted him. She pulled his head towards her, and kissed him.

It was, without a doubt, the greatest, most wonderful kiss of his life (not that there'd been all that many, actually). How long that kiss might have lasted, he could never tell afterward. It might have been a minute, or an hour, or a hundred years.

But eventually it ended.

Gradually he became aware that she was standing there before him, her expression serious. His mind still reeling from that impossible kiss, he tried to speak, but nothing would come out.

“Uh,” he said.
“Well, then,” she said softly, “I guess this is goodbye.”
She withdrew her hands from his hair slowly. She seemed to be sad about something. Tears were brimming in her eyes.
“Uh,” he said again.
“Goodbye,” she said, her hand on the doorknob. She stopped, looked down, and blurted out, “I love you.” With that, she turned and walked out the door.

He ran after her, but she was faster (he should have trained more, dammit). As he reached the door, she was already halfway down the corridor. Some of his companions stood in the hallway, and they called out to him as he ran past them: “Hey, Jon!” “What have you been doing for the last few hours?” “Go, Jono!”

He ignored them, kept on running. They ran outside. It was raining (of course). She tripped and fell. He was at her side in an instant.

He picked her up, hugged her, and said: “I love you too, Emily.”

They kissed.

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Emily and Jonathan kept in touch for long time. They wrote each other letters, met up at competitions. He sent her flowers (longest distance). But as time went by, the letters became less frequent. Jon stopped running to concentrate on his studies. They drifted apart, without saying goodbye. It was just life, you know?

One day there was a knock at the door. Jon opened it and saw the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

Emily, of course.

“Hi,” she said, smiling. “Mind if I come inside?”

“Uh,” he said.

“Thought so.” She kissed him.

"Uh."

She walked in. The door closed behind her.

Life…