It was somewhere in the summer when I just turned 19 and John and I (whom I’ve already told a little story about) were out in the park to meet up with one of John’s best friends. He told us his name was Matt. He did a study somewhere in Sweden, was 21 years old and compared to his younger friend John (and actually any guy in the park that day) incredibly handsome. A strong tanned body, that sexy English accent and a hug I could hide away in all day.
As I said in my story on John and me, we were nothing but friends at the time. He had that stereotypical friend zone vibe that just wasn’t working for me. I always had that feeling that he fancied me a little, but I tried to ignore it. He was just not my type then, but I also didn’t want to lose him as a friend. And most of the time this was working for us, but there were these occasions when we went out and I was dancing with someone else, that I could feel his stare. And I felt sorry for him.