Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be there. But technically, neither was she.

It started as one of those casual hangouts—nothing fancy, just homemade enchiladas, cheap beer, and a Spotify playlist. I had tagged along with Kyle, who assured me, “Yeah, yeah, it’s cool, everyone brings a plus-one.”

She, on the other hand, had wandered in from her room in sweatpants, probably expecting a quiet night without a full blown party in her apartment.

We locked eyes across the room—me, holding an echhilada too big for my mouth, and her, clutching down an empty cup of "Water" like a security blanket.

And that’s when she said it.

"Are you guys making drinks?"

She peeked my Interest.I swallowed my enchilada and tried to look as non-intrusive as possible, which is hard to do when you’re standing in someone’s living room, uninvited, holding a beer that isn’t yours.

"Uh, I’m with Kyle," I said, gesturing vaguely toward my friend, who was already deep into a conversation too random to remember

She narrowed her eyes at me, walked over and shook my hand.

Then, with the kind of resigned sigh only a person who has lost control of their own apartment can make, she ran upstairs promising to come back

At this point, I was not aware she was studying for a midterm with Sameh and Nihaal. All I knew is that she kept her promise to come back downstairs but now with two guys behind her.

A few drinks later, things got interesting. Someone suggested a drinking game—one of those chaotic ones where the rules keep changing based on who’s making them up. At one point, I found myself struggling and loosing at every turn

She, meanwhile, had this uncanny ability to avoid every single drinking punishment. Either she was insanely good at these games, or she had mastered the art of making people forget it was her turn. I suspected both.

We bonded over our mutual confusion about what, exactly, was happening.

"This game makes no sense," I told her.

She shrugged. "Yeah, but you’re losing, so it’s fun for me."

Fair.

Apparently, I later found out that she was trying to help me all along but I was not aware of that until years after.

At some point, after a dangerous amount of chips and whatever drinks Kyle was preparing, she was holding a guitar. Now, I’ve seen people bring out guitars at parties before, and usually, it meant one of two things:

• Someone was about to dramatically serenade another person.

• Someone was about to play Wonderwall.

But she? She actually knew how to play. And she was good. The kind of good that made people stop mid-conversation to listen.

She strummed something upbeat, .... and without really thinking, I got up and started dancing like an idiot—because when someone plays live music, what else are you supposed to do?

This intrepid move gave me the title of "salsa guy”… little did she know that my whole family would disagree

I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the chaos. She protested at first, but then she started swaying and laughing.

And that’s when I knew

For a while, we didn’t talk. Not because we didn’t want to, but because I forgot to get her contact information and as a good guy I was not about to lower my chances by asking our common friends to interfere for me.

Fast forward, and life did what life does: moved on. At least, until the moment I found out the window had opened again—she was free to talk, free to see me.

Only problem? I was in Mexico.

More specifically, I was in Mexico, mid-bite of some life-changing posole, fully committed to my meal.

So, I did what any reasonable person would do. I put down the spoon. Booked it back driving across the border and made my way to meet her at The Mission Inn.

I don’t know if it was the thrill of the unexpected reunion or the lingering effects of really good posole, but the moment I saw her again, it felt like picking up a conversation we’d only paused—not ended.

And this time, I told her I was interested on getting to know her and actually got her phone number.

8 years later. You guys get to see it all go down :)

Thank you for being part of our story

Registry