Her, riding her bike around my driveway when she was five. Her, learning to swim in my pool. Her, running around and doing cartwheels in my backyard. Her, biting her nails when I entered the room. Her, sitting next to my mother at every basketball game in high school. Her, refusing to even look in my direction when I hung out with a girl. And me, barely able to hold back the smile at the little looks she stole and how nervous she was when I was close. She was always there, and it was always us.
