When asked if he liked black girls Jonathan replied, “A very select few.” When asked if I liked black guys I replied, “A very select few.” These statements bonded us as outcasts of our own race. Sure, they tolerated us for awhile but as soon as we mentioned a song that wasn’t produced by Jay Z or a show that wasn’t aired on BET we were out. Casual jokes in the hallways turned to meaningful conversations during lunch. The first (extremely awkward) text evolved into calling just to say hi. To keep up the clichés I would say that everyone else saw it coming before I did, but no one else was paying attention. It wasn’t even one of those I-WOKE-UP-ONE-MORNING-AND-BLAM-REALIZED-I-WAS-IN-LOVE, kind of things. I kinda crept up on it… I asked him to go see a movie with me, with the clear indication that we were just friends. Yet, SOMEHOW, the rest of our group never showed up. And, SOMEHOW, our original movie was sold out. And, SOMEHOW, we ended up sitting by a fountain at night, with the stars twinkling above, and the warm August air blowing through my hair making me self conscious. SOMEHOW, I became one of the select few he could fall for and he became one of mine. People saw us on the street all the time and thought it was the norm. An African-American couple in their late teens. No one ever knew that we were the select few.