It wasn’t the tall, dark, handsome type, like those from magazines my friends swooned over, like those from the magazines. My first crush was Luca, a boy with wild, unruly hair and eyes as green as the olives his family grew. We had a meeting when I was ten years old, during the annual olive harvest festival held in our village. I recollect that the sun was setting, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets, and the air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and freshly pressed olive oil.

Luca was sitting on a stone wall, his legs swinging back and forth, and his fingers tracing patterns on the worn surface. I initially hesitated for a moment, then gathered my courage and approached him.

“Hello,” I said, attempting to maintain a steady tone of voice. Simona is my name.

He gazed upwards, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He said with a mischievous smile spreading across his face. I have seen you around.

That was the final conclusion. From that moment on, I was completely captivated by him. I was captivated by his adventurous spirit and his unwavering ability to stay ahead of others. We spent several hours exploring the olive groves, climbing trees, and building forts out of old branches and vines.

One day, during our game of hide-and-seek in the olive groves, Luca abruptly grasped my hand and dragged me behind a tree. My heart pounded in my chest, and I experienced a sensation of warmth radiating throughout my being.

He whispered, his eyes filled with excitement.

We remained concealed for an extended period of time, our bodies tightly pressed together. I could sense his breath on my cheek and observed the freckles scattered across his nose. During that moment, I felt a connection to him that I had never felt with anyone else before.

Our childhood friendship developed into a crush that lasted throughout our teenage years. Although we never officially dated, those moments of innocent connection in the olive groves remain in my memory, a testament to the pure, unfiltered joy of first love.