Dillon is the first guy I ever flirted with. Seriously. Because he’s the first guy I actually wanted to flirt with.
Here is how I flirted with Dillon:
We would arrive at the church for family home evening. I would stand on one side of the lobby. He would stand on the other. We would eye each other. I would whisper to my sister to see if she was noticing that Dillon was noticing me.
Sometimes, we would talk to each other. Mostly, I would be the one making the move, encouraged by the fact that he was looking at me. I would stand next to him. Sit next to him. Talk to him.
And then, daringly, I texted him one Sunday afternoon to go to a fireside with me. I waited for his reply. I waited. For hours. Sitting there on my couch, waiting.
Finally, I got in the car and was driving by myself to the fireside when I got a text.
Dillon. He could come.
I turned around and picked him up and we went and listened to Elder Ballard, who is my favorite. Partly because I have shaken his hand. Though not that night. Another time.
Anyway. We ended up in the institute building talking. And talking. And talking.
We went home, and I was the happiest girl on earth.
That was the beginning of November. And then, for over a month . . . Nothing. A little flirting. Some talking. But he didn’t seem interested.
Until school was almost out for the semester. And we ended up going with our ward to Temple Square to see the Christmas lights. And I ended up walking alone with Dillon, thanks to my subtle manipulations.
And Dillon finally decided he liked me.
On Tuesday, we met up at the junior high track and talked and walked. On Wednesday, we went on our second first date. We went hiking, made a gingerbread house, and, of course, talked.
And then it was uphill from there.