Well, that hardly seems necessary, I think. Walking is walking, right? But I’ve no sooner had the thought than a door at the far end of the church swings opens and the groomsman we’ve been waiting for, Colin Beretta, appears and begins bounding down the center aisle in all his muscled, tattooed, charismatic glory.
Swoon.
That’s my body’s instantaneous reaction to seeing my lifelong crush again, in person, for the first time in nine years. The exact same one I always used to have as a kid.
As I recall, I first swooned over Colin when I was five years old—although due to my tender age, I didn’t know how to label the mysterious sensations overtaking my body. It was my first day of kindergarten and my mom had tasked Logan, four years my senior, with walking me to school that day, since my brother would already be making the trek with our next-door neighbor, Colin.
I don’t remember the walk to school. All I remember is Logan ditching my whimpering ass in the hallway once we got there. Knowing Logan, I’m sure he left me right outside my classroom doorway, but it felt like Siberia to me. Which is why I started to whimper and freak out.
And that’s when Colin swooped in to save the day. As Logan ran away, presumably headed to the playground for some fourth-grade “me time” before the first bell, Colin grabbed my hand and led me into my classroom, straight to my new teacher. “Take extra good care of her,” I remember Colin saying to the pretty lady with bright lipstick. “Amy’s really sensitive.”
I didn’t know what that word meant. Sensitive. All I knew was it sounded like a beautiful thing, the way Colin said it about me. So much so, hearing him call me that caused a riot of sensations inside me. Butterflies. Warmth oozing like molasses into my core. Shortness of breath. Dizziness. All the things I now understand were the ingredients of my very first Colin-Beretta-inspired swoon.
After that, feeling like my insides were melting over Colin Beretta became a regular thing. Sometimes, it happened after he’d done something sweet for me, like on that first day of kindergarten. Other times, it happened when Colin simply smiled at me from across a room. And still other times, it happened when Colin had no idea I was watching him. For instance, during those last few years, when he’d practice playing his new drum kit in his bedroom at night, shirtless and sweaty, and I’d spy on him from my darkened bedroom window.
Over the years, I came to accept my crush on Colin was and always would be a one-way street. For one thing, our four-year age gap felt insurmountable. For another, he always treated me like a kid sister. But mostly, I knew I’d never get to fulfill my fantasy of kissing Colin Beretta because, instinctively, I knew the flat-chested, frizzy-haired tweener I saw in the mirror would never be able to compete with the stunning, curvy girls I saw Colin regularly sneaking through his parents’ side gate, under cover of darkness.
And so, after my parents divorced and Mom and I moved away from Cedar Street, after Logan had gone off to college, and my chances of seeing Colin again in person became slim to none, I started thinking of Colin as my “celebrity crush.” The sort of guy I hoped to have as a boyfriend one day—the blueprint of my dream man—but not someone I’d ever meet.
But then one day, about a year ago, I got a text from Colin, out of the blue, telling me he’d arranged a job for me, at Logan’s request. He said I could be a production assistant on a world tour, if I wanted. Not with Colin’s band, sadly, but with Red Card Riot. One of the most popular bands in the universe. So, of course, I said yes and thank you.
Colin replied that he was happy to do it and that he hoped I’d have a blast on the tour. He told me whom to contact at River Records. Wished me well. And that was that. My long-awaited reunion with Colin Beretta was over. Womp womp.
I was grateful for the job Colin had arranged for me, of course. Thrilled. But I can’t deny I also felt a bit disappointed he hadn’t been more interested in catching up with me. Not that I had anything particularly interesting to tell him.
But then, I had the exciting thought: “Maybe Colin will come to one of RCR’s shows and we’ll catch up in person!” I’d seen the gorgeous dancer all over Colin’s Instagram by then, thanks to my regular stalking of him, so I knew nothing would come of any such in-person reunion. But, still, a girl can dream, right?
But no. One quick Google search shot down any idea that I might see Colin again during Red Card Riot’s tour. Apparently, there’d been some kind of kerfuffle a few years ago between Dax Morgan, the lead singer of Colin’s band, and Caleb “C-Bomb” Baumgarten, the legendary drummer of Red Card Riot, and the two bands had steered clear of each other, ever since. And so, I accepted the truth that I’d never see Colin again, in person. Not in this lifetime, anyway.