From eighth grade until my sophomore year, I crushed on Mike Rock. Then my laser focus turned to Scott Sabella until I graduated from high school. We attended our junior prom together.
To be honest, I still lusted after Scott throughout my college years, envisioning some more-than-friendship spark bursting into a winter or summer break as we ran into each other in the food court at the Champlain Mall, one of us on our way into a movie and the other on the way out. A promise to meet up for breakfast later followed by long-distance phone calls and a wedding on some island in the Caribbean. Did. Not. Happen.
Mike and Scott were not Norse gods; they were short and sexy in that Michael J. Fox way. They were both kind and good friends to me.
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