Of course, I’d thought this was a brilliant idea and was eager to meet someone who didn’t know about my family history. Not that I let it bother me, but hearing the constant whispers from classmates and the sympathetic looks from teachers got old after a while. Simon thought it was stupid but went along with it for me.

The first pen pal I got stopped responding after five letters, and the ones I’d gotten had been minimal at best. Not the experience I thought it would be.

Simon, on the other hand, had a decent pen pal, but had told me he didn’t want to keep doing it. I’d found his reluctance strange since he appeared to get excited when he received a letter, but I didn’t force him to share.

I’d brilliantly taken it upon myself to reach out to his person, the perfect plan in my head.

Dear Mystery Person Aka Blaze,

You don’t know me. I’m not the person you’ve been corresponding with. That’s actually my best friend. Unfortunately, he’s kind of a dork and doesn’t think this thing is cool. I guess from his eyes, I’m the dork. My original pen pal bailed on me after five letters. I know, I know… how could they not think this was fun?

Well, I’m hoping you think this is fun.Simonwon’t let me read your letters, so your confidentiality is safe. But I know you wrote him back, and that’s something I’m looking for.

So, I have a proposition… we become pen pals.

The following are the reasons I think this would work.

1. I’m awesome

2. I like to write

3. I’m loyal and dedicated to doing this, making it a priority to mail you a letter each week

4. Did I mention I’m awesome?

5. I can regale you with funny stories from life with a 2-year-old (before you ask, yes, this is Kentucky, no, he’s not mine).

If none of that interests you, then you’re not the soulmate pen pal I believe you to be, but if it does, then I think our relationship is off to a good start.

Write back within the week if you’re interested, and I’ll know you’ve accepted. If not, I hope you have a great life, Blaze.

Sincerely,

Nox

I thoughtI was clever using part of my name and making it gender neutral. To my surprise, because I thought they would roll their eyes and trash my letter, they wrote back, and a long-distance friendship was born.

Simon gave me grief, often stating I’d stolen his friend, but he never had the patience to actually write letters and didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I had. I told him I would stop if it really bothered him, but he shook his head, not saying anything.

Throughout high school, I wrote back and forth without fault every week. When the time came to graduate and move on, I proposed we upgrade our penpalship to online. Once we started emailing, it was an almost daily thing. We talked about everything. Sometimes, he was soft and sweet, and other times, more of a brusque know-it-all that gave good advice and made me laugh, but no matter what, he was always there.

We dropped the act of not knowing one another’s sex midway through the first year. It was pretty obvious based on the handwriting, and the things we discussed. It didn’t matter to me, though, because we’d become friends. He was a few years older than me, but it didn’t seem to matter.

There was a part of me that wondered what he looked like and what his real name was, but I brushed it aside. It was nice not being hindered by those things. At some point, I did start to develop feelings for him. It was hard not to. On paper, or in writing, he was the perfect man and never disappointed me. Of course, I would fall in love with him.

Especially after the disaster with Simon, it felt inevitable.

But I kept quiet, not wanting to lose a good friend. I was surprised when he told me he would be in Nashville for the summer and wondered if I’d be up for meeting in person. Everything in me buzzed to life, and I anxiously awaited our meeting, but it never happened. A pain I didn’t like to remember.

Before I could think about everything that followed, a person sat down next to me, breaking the mental trap I’d fallen into. I’d been unconsciously swirling a fried pickle in the dill dip. It was aimless motion allowing me to recollect memories of my past.

This was the problem with being alone. I thought too much.

Taking a pull on my straw, I sucked up the last bit of strawberry syrup as it made that slurping gurgle sound.

“That looks good. Could I buy you another?”

Twisting, I was momentarily awestruck by the most beautiful man sitting next to me. Soft blue eyes, closely cropped dirty blonde hair, and a smile that dazzled me with his perfect teeth were attached to a 6 ft, muscular frame. I blinked, assured I was dreaming or perhaps in a sugar coma.