Chapter 1 – The Beginning of the End, in a Good Way

Here I sit in the back of a restaurant across from the one person who always had an irresistible, non-existent hold on me -- with his surprising jerk quality and appeal. It is a time in my life when all of the heartache and headache seems to melt away and begin with new, more pertinent issues -- like leaving this town, in its entire awful splendor. And though I should be thinking of the future -- maybe even smiling -- I am thinking of him in front me, still pulling those invisible strings as I stare with caution, into his large blue eyes. It is impossible to form a coherent thought when all I can see is him, smiling that smug smile that I always found so irritating yet endearing.

I wouldn't be the one to break the frightening awkward silence, even if it took all night to make him talk. I wasn't about to give up on him as a person since the chance to be together had slipped away so gradually that I was blindsided by the heart-breaking truth. Just a moment ago, we had been laughing and actually talking -- like we used to when it felt so real -- and now the reason why we sat across from each other made for a tense moment.

He leaned forward, bringing ourselves a fraction of an inch closer together, and I readjusted my eyes to his lax posture. "So you never told me how the board received your story." It was a start, I suppose.

"I graduated. Doesn't that say anything?"

He chuckled. "I meant, what they said about the meanings behind your words."

"Oh. Well, they found it morbid but thought that it was a good start for my career."

"It wasn't that morbid. They should read something other than all of that school-approved shit for once. I like your writing."

This time I felt the need to laugh. "You may be a little biased. Anyway...It's better to be criticized in the beginning rather than being attacked by some scary publishing house for writing complete and utter shit."

He leaned back. "Maybe. But you should always know that I'm a fan, Steph."

I felt the blood burn in my cheeks. "Good to know."

It made me happy to hear his praise, but I still felt the need to question his motives. Only a year ago he had planned to take my virginity, and I had agreed to the botched plan like an eager school girl. Even though he never went through with the plan, I wondered errantly if he ever wanted to plan the attack again. I hoped for him to see me as beautiful, someone who could take care of him; wanted him to see that I was more than a plaything that followed his every whim.

I watched him slide his hand -- like a hunting snake -- over the table, reaching for my own balled fist, and I did not object. His hand felt so right entwined with mine; I felt sad for allowing physical contact.

"Why are you crying, Steph?"

I hadn't even noticed the tears. "Just nervous about the future."

"Yeah...I know what you mean. I'm freaking out about SEAL training."

"Yeah." More tears fell; I didn't want to hear about him leaving.

His other hand cupped my face. "You're really going to miss me? Even after everything?"

Finally, he had brought up our reason for meeting, the reason why I cried at night. He was leaving me, and I was leaving him like I intended to from the very beginning of senior year. It was the best choice to make -- I had lost him and never really had him to begin with.

"You know that answer already."

I could taste his breath on my lips as he brought himself closer, releasing my hand to hold the other side of my face in place. The sane part of my brain fought – cursed him to the pits of an all fiery hell – while my less rational part surrendered all body movement – locked in place, readying for his attack…Just like a snake, slow and dangerous. Paralyzed and willing against the vinyl seat, I started to cry for my stupidity.

“It’s nice to know that you’ll miss me, but come on, Steph. I know that you deserve better than this. So much better. You really are pretty and talented and smart – the list could go on. Plus who knows how many girls I’ll bang while I’m away. And I don’t want to be held back…”

Why the hell did I care about him so much? Even as he spoke such an arrogant truth, I marveled at his supposed perfection – the light freckles across his slender slightly upturned nose, his full lips, his big clear blue eyes… Captivated, I listened to his voice, deep and a little scratchy. I was bewildered. And stupid for finding him so enchanting.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing – that’s what he was. A predator who only wanted prey.

“I want you, but not the same way you want me.”

My heart throbbed with the truth. “Then, why don’t you leave?” I whispered. It sounded like something was stuck in my throat.

He released me, and I leaned all the way into the seat – as far away as humanly possible. “You are so difficult sometimes. Do you know that?”

“I’m difficult? What about you, Ronald?”

He cringed at his name. Well, he deserved it. “Since when do you call me ‘Ronald’?”

“Since you pissed me off.”

He laughed without humor and actually looked a little scared. “Do you have any idea how terrifying you are?”

I snorted and folded my arms across my chest.

“No, really. You’re knowledge is amazing…and that Irish temper. All of that strength wasted on me…”

I guess he’s right about wasting my time. Most of my teenage life revolved around one person, a few other pricks peppered throughout the time in-between finding him both revolting and mesmerizing. I worked so hard to get him to notice me again – leaning over tables, wearing the tightest jeans, letting him press his fingers into my thigh at random moments, having him read my stories – and never a flicker of intrigue.

But there was that one time. Our first and only kiss. It was so confusing and beautiful and awful and heartbreaking and eye-opening all at the same time. Pressed against the wall outside of my chemistry class he held me close, wrapping his arms around my waist, measuring my reaction with his eyes as he bent his head closer…And then it was gone.

I felt the toe of his shoe rubbing against my shin. I sighed.

“You used to like when I touched you. Now, all I get are tears and sighs? You must really hate me, Steph.”

“Is that why I’m so complicated? Because I won’t allow myself to fall into your trap again…for the twenty-second time?”

“You could say that.” He continued to slowly slide his foot up and down my leg, and I continued to sigh and get red in the face. “See? You like it. The blush says it all.”

Of course I enjoyed it. There is no other feeling in the world that compares to him acknowledging my presence. But admitting that weakness would only bring me closer to him, and I wanted distance. Long distance that only e-mail could compete with, or maybe no contact at all. I needed a middle ground, without actual physical contact but reassurance that he was alive and well.

I sat back farther in the seat, taking in all of his smug glory. How I find that irresistible is beyond me.

“I need you to react just a little, like you used to. It would be a nice ego boost. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally get me into bed…”

Glare. Glare with all your might and walk away. Never look his way ever again. My thoughts were halfhearted, though. I could never be intentionally mean to him. Especially him.

“I’m not making that last part up.” He brought himself closer, no longer sitting, leaning across the table. “Who knows what could happen with some right words…Words are powerful things.”

My hormones screamed at me as I stared wide-eyed at his approaching figure. Kiss him! Touch him!

“Come on, Steph…” His lips nearly brushed mine. “We might never have an opportunity like this again.”

That was my answer. Never again. I would be nothing but another score, a one night stand, a forgettable lay. I have been the lucky one to hear about his sex life since the tenth grade; it was always the same – forget her, make fun of her. I shook my head ‘no’; my voice might betray me.

“I know that you don’t mean that.” Mercifully, he fell back into his seat.

I gulped back the lump that had formed in the back of my throat. “How do you know that? It’s not like you care what I want. At all. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“There you go again, being difficult.”

I started to argue, but he stopped me with one raised hand. “Let me finish. I’m saying that you’re difficult because you’re so set, and so stubborn, but you want me to go away and want me to stay. Make up your mind. I could change my mind someday, Steph, but I’m not promising anything. Sure, I like you…just not enough to hold onto.”

In other words, not enough to love and cherish, but enough to play with my heart and feelings. Sounded about right.

But I could still feel my heart warring with my want to leave and never look back. If I left now, maybe I could be happy and try to act like we never had this conversation; and if I stayed…I would fall into another whirlwind of lust and desire for him, and only him. Could I even move, though, knowing that I had some form of chance – no matter how slim?

He sighed. “I’m sorry. That sounded better in my head.”

“Most things usually do,” I mumbled. Hot, salty tears were on the verge of spilling, but I held them back. “Writers especially know that.” I laughed an unsteady laugh.

It was the end. The end of reconciliation. The end of our confusing relationship – friend and unrequited love. We had resolved nothing and never would. As long as I was concerned, he was removed from my heart the moment that he had appeared.

I left without a hug or muted good-bye. Because he was the first to leave, without a backwards glance…