The first time he said I love you was the summer you became friends. You were both reading - him a classic and you a contemporary romance. It was always like that between the two of you, both lost in your own world. The only thing that connects you was the flimsy string of earphones you were sharing. It was Bach playing in the background or was it Vivaldi? You can't quite remember and yet it all seemed so clear to you how he abruptly glanced away from his book and turned to you instead.
"I think I love you." It was more of a realization than a confession. Like he finally understood what his mind was trying to get him across all this time.
And you laughed because you didn't know what to say. You laughed because you were thinking, pondering. What now?
"But we're friends," you said, finally coming up with something coherent in your mind.
"Yeah, we're just friends," and then he went back to his book. The magic lasted too soon but you were glad it did. You were both too old for fairy tales anyway.