He was a model student in our dual degree program, often being highlighted for his exceptional work. I knew him long before he knew me. As a freshman, I saw him as the junior everyone admired, but I found myself in an isolating, and hurtful relationship before I had my chance. By the end of my sophomore year, I saw Luke in a dining hall line, and knew it was now or never. I turned around, batted my eyelashes and asked him, the best question I could’ve asked — “Are you a history major?”

Our favorite memory has to be our first kiss. We went on a second date, after our first one was *only* talking in his car for hours, and had the worst pizza ever. We walked back to the car, to get ice cream, and he grabbed my hand. Instant butterflies. He played with my hair before the door opened and leaded down. I knew he wanted to kiss me, but I couldn’t let him see how badly I wanted it—so I ran. He chased after me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed me, softly promising forever.

We would finally be able to start our life together, living in our own apartment. It would be close to both work and school, and would finally mean no more long drives (over 1h each way) or time apart — just simple mornings and quiet nights together. This would also save me from taking another loan for campus housing, as I graduate soon. After rent and furnishing our space, we’d place the rest into our wedding fund, building toward the day in November 2028, when we promise forever to each other.