I knew it the day he invited me to a Luke Bryan concert even though he hated country music: David was going to be my first real boyfriend. And like any first love, I fell hard and I fell fast.
Within weeks, we were inseparable. We were that couple who posted cheesy pics, who held hands *everywhere* we went and who sat on the same side of the booth together (yes, really).
He was the first boy I said “I love you” to—and the first boy to say it back. And, to be very honest, he was even the one I thought I’d say “I do” to. He was my everything.
So when we celebrated our one-year anniversary (with pizza and The Notebook, naturally), my only thought was how this was going to be the first of many amazing memories, how this was the beginning of my own Nicholas Sparks-worthy love story. When I left his house that night, I gave him (and his pup) a big kiss and said I’d see him when he got back.
Except I never did see him again. The next day, David went away for the weekend with his family to their beach house. And, while just walking around town, he fell. Not over a railing or off a cliff, just off a six-inch curb. It’s something that’s happened to most of us at some point but, unfortunately, David’s tumble was tragic. He hit his head in the worst possible spot, and he died instantly.
I was home lounging on the couch when I got the call. I remember seeing his friend’s number on the screen and ignoring it, figuring it was just them messing around. But when it rang five more times, I knew something was wrong—I had no idea how my life was about to change.
This story is from the February/March 2021 edition of Girls' Life magazine.
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This story is from the February/March 2021 edition of Girls' Life magazine.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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