Our Story

Zoe and I met during undergrad at Furman, but our story is more than a simple college meet-cute. Yes, we shared a class—that's technically how we met. But that's not when I truly began to know her.

From the very start, Zoe was the one who went out of her way to get to know me. I still remember the day she casually asked me where my apartment was as we walked back to the same building. Instinctively, I worried that maybe she lived below me and was gearing up to complain about the noise or my roommates' unruly behavior. So, I just blurted out, “Up top.” Looking back, I'm amazed that my awkward response didn't shut down what came next.

But Zoe didn't seem to mind my awkwardness. She offered to drive me to class every morning after I recently put a quarter-sized hole in my engine block while driving 20 miles an hour. Her little act of kindness that gave me this precious, unexpected glimpse into her world. A world painted with a vibrant charm I couldn't help but be drawn to. The gentle chaos of rushing out the door, the way she balanced her own panic over being late with a calm and casual coolness—it was all so endearing. And then there was the singing. Singing along to whatever song she felt would give her the energy to get through the day. The signing that unabashedly showed me the kind of authenticity and elation she could bring to a room. Singing that I sheepishly mumbled along with because it was the kind of thing that was meant to be shared.

Back then, I was still clueless. I thought she was just being nice because, well, Zoe is an undeniably kind person. I admired that about her, but it took me a while to realize there was something more.

One day, she asked me if I wanted to go to a basketball game. I thought it was just something she enjoyed doing and wanted me to tag along on to get to know each other better. And sure, it was something she enjoyed. But it turns out, there was more to the invitation. Her friends sat in the row below us, not with us, and hardly participated in our conversation throughout the game. It was like we existed in this little bubble of our own. Then, as a player lined up for a free throw, Zoe reached over and grabbed my hand so we could wiggle our fingers and send “good vibes” toward the shooter. My heart sped up, thudding in my chest, as I started to realize maybe—just maybe—Zoe liked me as more than a friend.

Eventually, with a little gentle nudging from her end, I finally worked up the courage to ask if she wanted to have a mini guitar lesson with me one night at her apartment. We sat together in a dimly lit room, my clumsy fingers plucking at strings and our singing far from perfect. But none of that mattered. Because in the midst of that awkwardly sweet moment, we shared our first kiss.

After that we fell for one another. We fell fast, and we fell hard. And we haven't stopped since.