Sixth grade started with my heart still hurting. I was sis-zoned. But it kept going, nothing much happened. I became more composed, and started keeping to myself. For my eleven-year-old self, the heartbreak was too much to take.

I didn't talk much to any guy. I didn't want to be hurt again. I vowed to not talk to or even look at any guy without any reason.

I kept myself distracted from everyone and everything, kept my focus on my grades and then lockdown came.

Everything was happening too fast for my taste.

When lockdown came, I started painting again. At first it was just one or two canvases, but then I had and entire room filled with paintings, one better than the other. It was lockdown quietened down, and art galleries started opening up.

I started presenting my work and started getting recognisation. It was like a blissful dream. I had more awards than I could count, I was on television every day. It was wonderful. I painted all day and all night. It made me happy, it helped me deal with the solitude.

And then he texted me.

Not Jacob, no.

A classmate of mine, Reece. We had to make a presentation together for school. School was online back then. It was eighth grade and I was as dumb as ever, I guess.

I didn't talk to him first. I kept the mask up, I kept ignoring him and avoiding him. I answered shortly at first, but he got me opening up slowly.

Once I was at my great-grandmother's place for a family gathering on Easter and he'd called me. It was the first time we'd talked on phone. The memory of his voice back could make me smile anytime.

I had picked up the phone and said, "Hello,"

And he'd said, "Hi,"

And then for the next entire twenty seconds, he'd stuttered, trying to find the right words. Trying to tell me what he wanted to tell me.

"What is it, Reece?" I asked, my voice the softest I had ever heard. I still remember that tone I used, even though I could never replicate it again. It was soft, composed, angelic and feather-like. I loved that voice.

It reminded me of sirens.

Sure, my voice was nothing compared to a siren. But it was the closest it could get.

His tension automatically melted away, and we started talking.

The conversation wasn't long. I didn't speak much, but that voice stayed put.

He called again a few days later. We had talked on chat now and then for rather long times. When he called again, the conversation started off smoothly, and we talked about things other than than our presentation. We talked about our mutual friends and made fun of them.

And that was when he suddenly asked me about our previous crushes.

I was hesitant at first, but it didn't take long for me to open up. And suddenly, I was telling him all about Jacob and he told me about a girl he liked.

"Wait, so your first crush was on an imaginary German blonde girl?" I asked him, unable to hold in my laughter.

"Well yeah," he replied, laughing along with me.

"Wow. Like a nomadic Aryan?"

"Well, I am not that obsessed with history."

"Ahem, ahem," I cleared my throat very audibly and sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up,"

"And here I thought I was crazy, dude."

"Well, you aren't," and the conversation just kept on going.

It wasn't until two hours later and our moms were calling us both that we realized how much time had passed and how much we'd talked.

But it wasn't enough for either of us.

He called me again two days later, and just like that we were friends.

We just clicked. He opened me up, like I was a lock and he was my key. Looking back now, even though it was only a year back, I feel like we were just kids back then. Kids, who thought they'd found someone they could belong with, kids who had no responsibility, kids who had everything they wanted.

It was like we were those figurines in a snow globe, with no care in the world, with nothing to worry about. It was like we were in our own world.

We talked on video calls with our videos off cause we were both shy. And just like that, it only took me a month with him to break my vow. I started falling for him. Hard.

The world was brighter.

My paintings that were earlier very childish had now started becoming more cheerful. My mom told me there was a new glow in them. Something that wasn't before.

I knew why.

Earlier they were made by a girl restricting her happiness, restricting love.

Now they were made by a girl falling for a guy.

My mother told me she liked how I got attached and detached easily.

I wished I could tell her it was a lie.

My father always told me that the quality he admired the most about me was that I cared for very few people. But if I cared, then I cared too much. And those people were worth caring for. He always told me that falling in love once, and hard is way beautiful than falling again and again. He always told me that finding love was going to be hard, but I should wait for it. And he always told me I shouldn't let that one person go.

I knew I didn't love Reece, at least just not yet.

But I knew I cared for him deeply.

He had a dark humor, and he cursed worse than a pirate. And even though I had to repeatedly tell him to stop cursing, a part of me always liked it. There was nothing I cared about when I was around him. Everything was lighter.

After a time, my fake voice just vanished. And I could be myself around him. I could tell him everything. And he told me everything. He was my distraction from the world, from all the stress. He was like a drug, getting me high all the time.

Another month passed by with me debating whether I should confess to him or not.

The dilemma was too big, the consequences were too much, the risk was too high. I couldn't lose him. I couldn't handle a rejection from him.

My friend used to read my chat and encourage me to confess. But I just couldn't. It was too hard for me. Sure, there were signs that he liked me back, but it had been a while since I had talked to a guy, so what did I know about guys?

My knowledge was limited to medieval love stories and movies. I didn't know much apart from that. I knew he liked me. But the question was that did he like me just as a friend. Or maybe as something more?

I wanted to know. I asked my friend to ask him whether he liked me or not. She and Reece had talked before, and I was curious to know whether he had feelings for me or not.

My friend video-called me and shared her screen as she chatted with Reece.

The conversation started off smooth, but it got worse after five minutes. Reece was a polite person. Not.

Reece wasn't very polite. He was the exact opposite of polite. And my friend was short-tempered.

It took Reece five minutes to start using explicit language. And that was okay. My friend was more than okay with explicit language. He didn't even use actual curse words. He was just used to apologizing to me. What was not okay for her was that he apologised a minute later for using foul language.

I still remember the text she sent him after that.

What language? She'd texted him. Hell? You didn't even use bad language. And why are you saying sorry? I heard you guys curse when we were in sixth when we were BABIES. Is it cause I am a girl? Okay, why do people have to be sexist all the time? The society has conditioned young people like us to think that females are lesser than males. And everywhere you see, people are putting down females, non-binary people, gay people, lesbians, transgender people. People putting down men for crying because it is 'weak' and 'feminine'. Well you know what?!! The last time I cried was two years back. And you know what?!! Crying doesn't make anyone weak. It keeps them from blowing up! In fact people who don't cry end up becoming angry people who keep pushing things down and hide their emotions when they should cry sometimes and be upset.

I got a call from Reece right after asking if my friend was sane or not. I had told him I wasn't sure myself. He'd asked me if she was smoking weed. I had told him I wasn't sure about that either.

I decided to abandon that plan of my friend asking him.

Few more days passed and I had had a near death experience. I was almost murdered by a street dog. That might sound funny, but I still remember the way the dog came at me. Just like a piranha. I was so shaken and traumatised while chatting with him later, that he could actually feel it. He called me on video call, and even thought just as usual my video was off, I felt better talking to him.

He swiftly changed to topic to take my mind off it, to distract me. I was sketching the horrifying figure of the dog when the topic suddenly came to something that required my whole attention.

I had once told him a lot of girls liked him and he wanted names now.

"I am not breaking girl code and telling you. Forget about it!" I remember telling him. Truth was that I only knew one or two girls who liked him. I was trying to hint him that I liked him. But leave it to a boy to never get a hint.

"Come on tell me!"

"Nope, not a chance,"

"Please, tell me!"

"It's Angela,"

"Who else? Tell me!"

"Not doing it, Reece,"

"Please, Christiana," I had never heard him say my name before. It sounded foreign on his tongue, but in a nice way. I hummed as it sent butterflies flying in my stomach, leaning back and soaking in the sound. I wasn't sure if he'd said my name to convince me or it was just a coincidence, but I wanted him to say my name again. It sounded like it belonged on his tongue. It sounded like Christmas chimes. It sounded like how his name sounded on my tongue. The way he spoke my name, it was just something else. It made me hope for his presence, it made me long for it. I wanted him there with me for no reasons and too many reasons at once. I just wanted him beside me.

"You know, I have never heard you say my name," I told him truthfully, trying to distract him.

He paused. It was a pause that made me think that he'd ended the call. It was a pause that gave away the fact that he wasn't breathing. It was a pause that made me realize that he was just as tense as I was. It was a pause that made me want him to ask me again the name of the girls. It was a pause that made me want to confess.

"I don't know," he admitted in a voice that sounded controlled. I liked the voice. The voice showed how vulnerable he was at that moment. "Who's the girl?"

I took a deep breath. I calculated in my head how badly it could go. I calculated the risk percentage. I calculated every possibility. And I didn't want to confess. But the urge was too much for me. For some reason, I didn't feel like that introvert I was before. I felt more confident. And there was a voice, a voice that I wasn't sure belonged to an angel or a devil, that was telling me to just do it and be done with it. A voice that was asking me to just say it. A voice that was soothing me. It was asking me what was the worst thing that could happen? It was telling me that I just had to speak two words.

And I gave in to that voice and replied,

"It's me!"