Love 1

When I was 12, right after my June exams in school, my parents put me on a plane and sent me alone to Switzerland. At Zurich airport, a blond young man named Steve picked me up and took me to the place where I was to stay for next three months. He showed me around and told me to get ready for dinner so he could introduce me to the others. Then, he left me in a wooden house in the middle of the forest and went on his way.
Not even half an hour had passed before I wandered outside and got lost in the dark, foggy forest—on my very first night. I was on the verge of panic when Steve found me. The moment I saw him, I threw myself into his arms and burst into tears. He comforted me, and I quickly calmed down. From that night on, I felt a special attachment to him.
Steve took me to the main center of our residence, a place filled with everything imaginable—restaurants, a disco, a game room, classrooms—bustling with kids my age from all over the world. Suddenly, I found myself in a thrilling new world, and all my earlier worries faded away. He introduced me to my group: two Americans, one Spanish, and one Kuwaiti. I soon learned that the wooden house was where the five of us lived and that Steve was our group leader. We ate together, played sports, traveled, and spent nearly every moment as a team.One of the American boys, Mike, started teasing me from day one. At first, feeling like an outsider, I ignored him. But by the end of the first week, I realized he wasn’t going to stop. Mike, like any classic bully, was looking for someone to pick on. Based on my experience from school back home, I knew exactly how to handle him. One foggy afternoon, I caught Mike alone in the forest and gave him such a beating that he forgot all about his bullying tendencies. To his credit, though, he wasn’t a sore loser—he never told Steve.
Everything was going well in Switzerland—until, unfortunately, I fell in love. With whom? An American girl named Janet, a group leader just like Steve and the same age as him. But love doesn’t follow logic. Though she towered over me, I imagined us walking hand in hand through the forest, laughing and talking. The problem was, I wasn’t just daydreaming—I was determined to find a way to get close to her.
Word spread quickly, and soon everyone knew about my infatuation. Naturally, Mike seized the new opportunity to tease me. But I was so caught up in my own world that I had no patience for his antics.
Then, one night at the disco, while everyone—including Janet—was dancing, my groupmates started egging me on. "If you’ve got the guts, go ask Janet to dance," they dared me.
I hadn’t planned for this. My heart was pounding. In my mind, the entire scene turned into a slow-motion sequence from They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? by Sydney Pollack.Suddenly, the music slowed down. I thought, It’s now or never.I walked up to Janet and asked, "Would you like to dance with me?" 
She gave me a warm smile and said, "Yes, sure!"
I took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Wrapping my arms around her waist, we swayed to the music. With each turn, I stole glances at Mike and the others, feeling triumphant. When the dance ended, I kissed Janet’s hand and said, "Thank you!" She smiled and replied, "You are a gentleman," then kissed my cheek. I felt my heart melt.
And just like that, as Janet left the dance floor, my feelings for her disappeared too. I spent the rest of the night happily playing foosball.