It was a cold day in March when I realized I was in love.

I saw him from a distance. His beautiful face and physique drew me to him instantly. I could only describe it as godlike. I felt unworthy to be in his presence. His piercing eyes and height intimidated me, but his smile was warm and endearing.

He was always surrounded by a crowd, and I knew he was popular. I could not dare to approach him, so I silently made my way to my dorm. My heart swelled with joy knowing that maybe one day, I will work up the courage to tell him how I feel.

My first love was naive and unrequited, yet I made my way out more, hoping to see him again. I usually kept myself in my room for days due to my lack of motivation from online classes, but now I had a reason. He would sometimes be in the dining hall and I would share quick glances with him. Sometimes he would wave to everyone there, but, at a precise angle, I was convinced that he was waving at me.

I felt ashamed. I pictured a future of us together at the altar, saying our “Awoos.” Fantasizing about him was shameful, but I couldn’t help it.  He was just too perfect. I knew others felt the same, but it was different for me. He clawed his way into my heart and mind, and I welcomed him with open arms.

A summer passed. I went back home, and my feelings only intensified from our separation. My parents noticed too. 

“Marie, you’re home from college now and somehow you’re still sad. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

“I think you should maybe consider transferring. It doesn’t seem that Stony Brook is the right place for you,” my mom said, sighing.

“NO!” The dinner table fell silent because of my outburst. I couldn’t leave. Not when I just started my Stony Brook experience. 

“Is there anyone you like?” My sister smirked.

I shook my head no, my face growing red. They wouldn’t understand, and I was afraid they would be disappointed. But the heart wants what it wants. On rainy summer evenings, I put my hand to the window, wishing his paw would close the gap.

The first day of the following fall semester was a blur. So many people were scurrying all over to who knows where. As I walked to the center of campus, I locked eyes with him. I do not know what came over me, so I rushed to him. He was surrounded as people took pictures with him. I knew I had to make my move. I could no longer let my thoughts torture me. I made my way through the crowd until I was face-to-face with him. I asked him for a hug, and he obliged. All my dreams were coming true in that blissful moment. I could die happy knowing he fulfilled my wish. I trembled as I said softly in his ear:

“I love you, Wolfie.” 

I made my way to my first class. But for once, I finally knew what a seawolf was — me.


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