love him not... love him... Love him. It's his hug. That's how I knew it. The way I wanted to stay there, in his arms, forever. The way I wished he would just hold on to me, and protect me from the world. From my life. From everything. The way he would come out and talk to us, the two girls who probably have the biggest crushes in the world on him [which he knows about Kendra and not me], with shorts, a t-shirt, and socks on, in the cold wind and rain, and not go in, no matter how cold he is. And then, when we had to leave, he gave us the best hugs in the world. The kind of hugs your best guy friend gives you, the ones that hide whether he likes you or not. The close but far-away hugs, the ones you want to be closer and want to last forever and can almost tell that he does, too, but you're not sure if you're just wishing that or if it's true. It's the kind of hug that life, love, wishes, hopes, and dreams are made up of. The best hug in the world.

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