when I asked what that sound program was in class? I can't remember if I was genuinely interested in the program, if I just wanted to talk to you because you were cute and approachable, or if I was just trying to practice being not socially awkward in my last class of the day. 18-year old UT freshman me got lucky and missed orientation (sorry again to my familia) so I had to take a random free elective, and you, Kris, serendipitously happened to choose that same class to fill up some empty space. The dresses you wore just for our one class together were cute, but they also miraculously helped start our first conversation when I mistook you for the girl with the tattooed back. She's the real champ for having just about the same skin tone, body type, hair and for switching spots with you on our second class day causing me to notice not only your open back outfit but also your suddenly ink-less back. Therefore I HAD to ask you about where your tattoos went. We somehow connected a bit on how memorable she was. Or at least that was the start before classwork. I really am glad your talented Photoshop expert dad didn't teach you everything he knew otherwise I wouldn't have been able to help you when I saw you struggling. I don't remember exactly how it went but I like to imagine myself showing you how to select layers and helping you through the correct motions with my hand moving yours on the mouse. It probably was much less romantic with my cargo shorts, long unkempt hair, and sleep deprived eyes from playing League of Legends all night, but you still let me walk with you and Natasha (your plant) to the food court, where you'd eat the free lemons. By exchanging numbers before going on our separate ways, you gave me a chance. You were a graduating junior looking for something to heal the pain and fill in the gaps of your heart. We took a bet on each other, even though you hate bets, and I truly think we won the jackpot together. Forever, I love you.

Finally, I was sure, overlooking the California sunset on the Santa Monica Pier, you told me to hold out my hands and close my eyes. When you allowed me to open them, on my hand was not a ring but a festival pass to Tyler, the Creator's Camp Flog Gnaw that was rumored to have our all time favorite artist as the mystery headliner. After a full weekend of anticipation, the time came for the mystery headliner to be revealed. We held our breath and each other's hands the whole time we waited. Then we mourned along with the entire stadium of people when Frank Ocean failed to come out from behind the curtain. Little did I know there was an extra layer of mourning in your heart because you were saving your proposal for that moment and now it had come and gone. In our little slice of heaven, your plan would have worked flawlessly and we would have spent our day one of forever swaying to Godspeed. But it wasn't what God had intended for us. A few months later, we went to Jared on a whim, which couldn't be more you. We picked out the most flawless representation of our love for me to wear on my left hand. Spontaneously as usual, you decided we should go down to Lake Arlington by your grandparents house. There, on a chilly December night in my flip flops (because I'm a true Texan), we went out on the pier and watched that same beautiful sunset we saw in Santa Monica as our futures collided. The day I broke up with my boyfriend and promised to spend my life as his wife instead couldn't have been more perfect. I can't wait to see how each new day trumps the previous as we go off on this adventure together. I will always love you, Austin, how I do.