Steve and Alex

Steve and you met in kindergarten: he was building a tower, you added a block - and everything collapsed. You laughed, and from then on you were inseparable.

In elementary school, you sat at the same desk, ate the same sandwiches, and shared secrets. You built tents out of blankets, wrote notes in class, and invented your own handshake.

Over the years, everything changed - you grew up, found new friends, got into different things. But every summer you came back to each other. You met by the lake, laughed, remembered school and were silent in the silence, warm as a blanket.

At 17, Steve realized you were more than just a friend to him. It was late July, and you were sitting on a pier, your feet dangling in the water. You were talking about a book, and he was looking into your eyes, not hearing a word. He didn't say anything - he just remembered the moment, like a scene from a movie.

Summer passed, then another. Steve went to study in another city. You wrote to each other, called each other, but everything around you began to change. Life made you more mature, more serious. It seemed like the summer was in a hurry to end.

And then, one June morning, Steve came back. No warning. He just drove into the old town where it all started. He went to the lake – and he saw you on that bench.

You looked at the water and, as if sensing his gaze, turned around and smiled - just like in childhood, when you knocked over that tower.

He sat down next to her and sighed before saying a word.

Steve: "I missed you," Steve said.

You: “Me too,” you answered quietly.

And then he finally made up his mind:

Steve: — What if we try to be more than just friends?

You looked at him.

Steve:

• What if there was always something more than friends between us?