“I like your sweater”

It starts in sacrament meeting. Long before Devon and I even considered dating each other, I saw him in sacrament meeting. If I remember correctly, he was on the first row about to pass the sacrament. I was sitting a couple rows behind him. As I was sitting there it suddenly struck me what a good-looking guy he was, even from the back of his head. After a couple of weeks of watching him in sacrament meeting, I started to think about working up the courage to actually talk to him.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting at Stake Conference with his roommate, Ken Bostwick. I was giddy, I thought for sure that we’d run into Devon and I could talk to him or something. Low and behold, we head back to our apartments and Devon appears, and begins to walk with us. But he was walking next to another girl in our ward a little ways ahead of me. I began to plot how I could catch up to them and somehow talk to Devon. Mid thought, I looked up, and almost audibly gasped. Devon was holding hands with the girl next to him. My pace slowed and I felt a little dumb for hoping. Of course he was dating someone.

A few weeks later, something crazy happened. It was Sunday again and I found myself sitting in sacrament meeting, before the meeting began. My roommate, Emilee Gregson and I always liked to get to church early. Out of nowhere comes Devon. He walks down our row and turns to me and asks, “Can I sit here?” I was surprised, but flattered. I told him that of course he could sit there, but tried to give him the cold shoulder, because I thought he was dating another girl, the girl that he held hands with. I was polite, and bit my tongue. He told me he liked my sweater. It was pink.

The next week, he sat by me again. I was so confused. I remember talking to my roommates about how weird it was that he sat by me. I mused about the girlfriend I thought he had and how I didn’t think he was that kind of guy.

The next Sunday. . . same thing.

That final Sunday, I sat by him and he also talked to me at ward prayer. Later that night, I was sitting in my apartment, hanging out and I heard a knock on the door. WIth a confused look on my face, I opened the door to a handsome 6′ 5″ Devon Cook. I was shocked and flattered. I invited him in, we had some small talk, and
“Hey can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Um, can I ask you on a date?”
“Yes!” (I tried not to sound too eager, but I don’t think I tried that hard.)

We proceeded to find a time and he got my number. As he walked out the door, I just about died. I could not believe that he had been in my apartment.

I guess he wasn’t still dating that girl.


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