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Somehow, in high school, it made more of a difference if you were into science and he was into athletics. It mattered more that your glasses were too large and occasionally slipped down your nose, and it mattered more that he was tall and good looking.
Of course, on your own, in the back of his car, at the movies, in your room - it didn't matter then. It didn't matter because he was whispering you're beautiful, I love you, I always have, I always will.
Gretchen wore his jacket every day, and he drove her to the science fair, the two of them were always at the dances. The Ashleys of this world didn't understand; she heard them, sometimes, asking him what do you see in her? Then again, some of her scientific colleagues asked her what can you talk to him about?
Funny that the more everyone else questioned them, the less they questioned themselves.
They met again at a reunion; college had sent them in different directions, both were far too wise to know that it wasn't worth forcing a long distance relationship. Four years turned into ten, and suddenly high school was calling them back.
He'd promised nothing would change, and nothing had. His hand was in hers, and nothing else mattered.