Torn

A short story I wrote in the spring of 2016 about a teenager who wrestles with attraction, confusion, and shame.

It started with a brief exchange of syllables, a cursory glance, a small turning up of the corners of his mouth. I walked by him in the parking lot as I was going to my car one day after school. He said, “`Sup” as he approached. I'd seen him a million times before: in the halls, on the court, sitting with his friends at lunch. We didn't really know each other, but we nodded at each other every now and then.

So why did the way his sweaty, matted hair was pushed up out of his eyes, a shaft of sunlight falling across his forehead, suddenly find me at a loss for words? I managed to reply, “Hey,” before we had passed each other and the moment was gone. I couldn’t resist looking back at him, studying his cool, confident walk. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, then I got in my car and drove away.

* * *

Four months later…

I'm sitting in Physics, alert and focused. The teacher drones on and on about acceleration and velocity and whatnot. He wears horribly patterned bow ties and has an eye twitch. His bald head is glistening under the fluorescent lights. But he’s not who I’m focused on.

Kyle. He's two seats in front of me and one row to the right. He drums his fingers on his desk and bounces his knees up and down, keeping a steady rhythm. He's always moving, both on the court and off. I drop my eyes to my paper, but my attention is constantly drawn back to him every time he does something new. He shifts in his chair. Shuffles his feet and his things. The muscles in his forearms and legs flex with each movement. His eyes are fixed on the clock hanging above Mr. Sheldon’s shiny head.

He watches the time with borderline nervous anticipation every day, his finger drumming and knee bouncing and paper shuffling getting faster and faster until he's like a tightly coiled spring about to snap. The bell for lunch rings, and he jumps out of his chair, all his tension released. He instantly returns to his calm, easy demeanor and manages to keep it up while rushing out the door. I sigh and pack up my things. The classroom is cleared before I've even stood up. I'm usually the last one out.

Sadie is waiting for me in the lunchroom at our table as always.

“Hey, Zach!” She greets me with a huge grin, flashing her perfect teeth and dimples.

All thoughts of Kyle are instantly wiped from my mind at this sight and I swell with happiness. How did I get so lucky? Of course, this isn't the first time I've asked myself that question. I was essentially a nobody before we started going out. I'm not involved in any school activities. I'm a laid-back but button-up kind of guy, not a jock that someone like her would normally go out with. By some stroke of luck, she took an interest in me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the type of person to take advantage of a situation, but it was a bonus when my social life was transformed overnight.

Sadie is captain of the All-American Angels, our dance team. Dance is really big here. Dancers are sort of the cheerleaders of our school, in terms of popularity and school hierarchy. There's no replacing the jocks, though. The cocky, flashy hotshots–all except for one. I scan the lunchroom for a second before my eyes land on him. He is crammed into a table full of his jock friends and chicks clamoring for their attention. A few girls try talking to him, but he isn't interested. He never is.

Everyone is aware that he's gay. The sky is blue, and Kyle is gay. I can't remember the first time I found out. Probably junior high. Before that, I hadn't known anyone who wasn’t straight. My parents hadn't exactly sat me down and said, “You're straight. Some people aren't that way.” They left me to figure out everything on my own.

The only thing they've said about the subject is that they don't approve of it. And when my parents don't approve of something, it's forbidden. Off-limits. Which is really bad considering what's been on my mind a lot lately. The ever-present guilt burns at the forefront of my mind whenever my thoughts turn to my parents and their denunciation of everything associated with it.

It's not that my folks are religious. Neither am I. That's not it. They've just always ingrained in me that being gay is wrong because of their love and emphasis of tradition. It goes against everything they've ever learned and believed in, and I never questioned or doubted it. Until now. Guilt squirms in my gut...or it could just be the fact that I'm starving.

Sadie faithfully waits with me in line, oblivious to the traitorous thoughts running through my head. I get my food and half-listen to her endless chatter as we near Kyle’s table. I hate that my instant reaction is to heat up and flush visibly red whenever he’s in the proximity. I mean, I have debatably the hottest girl in the school! And it's not like I ever even talk to him...or that I'm gay. Because I'm not. This is the kind of internal debate I've been having with myself for the last four months.

Kyle looks up as we walk by, looking first at Sadie, then at me. He locks eyes with me. My stomach explodes with butterflies. Sadie’s voice fades due to the dull roar in my ears. I'm sure my face is as red as the lipstick of the girl next to him. It must be really obvious because he breaks into a grin, a lot bigger than the one he gave me four months ago when I first noticed him. I force myself to look straight ahead until he’s safely behind us.

After I sit down, I risk glancing over my shoulder in his direction. He's also twisted around in his seat, staring. I'm caught. Now there's no mistaking the huge smile on his face. He finds my reaction amusing. This thought makes my whole body so warm I may burst into flames at any given moment. Sadie asks me if I have a fever and suggests I see the nurse. I resist the urge to look again, even though I can feel his eyes on me the rest of lunch.

This is not good.

* * *

I met Sadie when I was in seventh grade and she was in eighth. She hardly made an impression on me at first. Her hair was a nice blond color, but nothing original. Her nose was short and stubby and turned up at the end. But by the time ninth grade rolled around, oh, man. Her hair turned glossy and more blonde and her nose straightened out. Of course, she wears a lot of makeup, dyes and treats her hair, and may or may not have gotten a nose job. Not that I'd ever ask her about it.

I push my way through the throng of students flooding the hallway. It's practically a madhouse in here when the last bell rings. I eventually make it to my locker and find Sadie already waiting by it.

“Hey, hot stuff,” I say.

“Hey, yourself,” she says.

“I thought you had dance today.”

“It got canceled. Coach is out sick. But, like, obviously I could handle the team on my own. I am the captain, after all.”

“Definitely,” I say, because obviously I'm supposed to agree.

She doesn't say anything more as I gather my books— just leans up against the locker beside mine. I know she's expecting me to ask her to hang out. I sling my bag over my shoulder and open my mouth to speak, but I seem to have swallowed my tongue. My pulse starts to race.

Kyle is coming down the hall with his friends in tow, talking and laughing. He shakes his head, sending his brilliant dark brown locks cascading over his forehead. He brushes them out of his face, leaving the front all mussed. He comes to a stop at his locker, which happens to be a few down from mine. I don't realize I'm openly staring at him, one hand on my locker door, the other on my backpack slung over my shoulder, until he’s staring back. His friends are staring. So is Sadie.

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air until one of the books slides out of my locker and hits the floor with a loud smack. Just like that, the spell is broken. I reach down to retrieve it, my face burning. His friends do little to conceal their amusement, clapping Kyle on the back before leaving.

“Get it, man,” one says and breaks into another fit of laughter.

Kyle closes his locker before giving me a small, unreadable smile and following them out. I watch him go, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest and my palms tingling. I turn back to Sadie.

She looks puzzled. “What was that all about?”

“Dunno,” I mumble, wanting nothing more than to hide. Or die. Either works.

She gives me a funny look. “What?”

“He doesn't, you know, like you, does he?” She laughs nervously.

“No…why would he?” My heart pounds hard at this thought.

The shame and disgust have begun to set in, as they always do right after a sighting or encounter with Kyle. I'm so confused about all the emotions swirling through my head that I can feel a headache coming on. I have a strong, strange desire to go home, lock myself in my room, and listen to calming, therapeutic music while I figure this all out. But I don't. I put my arm around Sadie, walk her to my car, and take her to coffee. Because I'm a good boyfriend. And I'm not gay.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I try my hardest to ignore Kyle. I was stupid to let my guard down enough that he noticed how I acted around him. No, I didn't let my guard down, I remind myself again. There isn't anything for me to hide.

I keep my head down in Physics and hardly look up except to answer questions when I get called on. I tell myself it doesn't matter if I give the wrong answers, even though Kyle turns and watches me with something like a smirk on his face and makes me stutter. It doesn't matter that he seems to excel. Mr. Sheldon loves him.

But then, so does everyone. He's our star basketball player, and I've heard more than one teacher lament that he's graduating this year and where will our team be without him? I've watched him play a few times, and even though I'm not that into sports, I can't help but be entertained.

He flies down the court like he has wings instead of legs. He spins and slides and swivels past opposing players until he reaches his destination. I've hardly ever seen him miss. The look of intense concentration on his face, his forehead screwed up, his brows furrowed, is sort of a turn-on. In a totally normal way, brought on by the excited energy of the crowd all around me. The only reason I go to the games is because Sadie performs at halftime, anyway.

After one such game, in which we crushed the opposing team 64-49, I’m at my locker getting a book I forgot earlier when a shadow falls across me. I turn and squint at the dark figure whose outline is the only thing I can see with the light coming in from the lobby.

“Hi,” a deep voice rumbles.

My stomach jolts. I'd know that voice anywhere.

“H-hi,” I stammer back.

There is a momentary pause, and I feel like I should say something else.

“I can't really, um, see you,” I say, cringing even as the words tumble out of my mouth.

Kyle doesn't reply but walks around until he's standing in front of me. I can make him out a little better now. He's soaked with sweat through and through, but the smell coming off of him is not unpleasant. I can tell he’s still buzzed from their victory by the way he's clenching his fists in and out and breathing heavily. His eyes are bright, charged with energy, and gleaming in the semi-darkness. He should be celebrating with the rest of the school, which is why it beats me that he’s standing here in front of me right now.

I glance around. The hallway is empty except for us, and it won't be long before Sadie comes looking for me. He towers over my 5’10” at his 6’2”. His broad shoulders contrast greatly to my narrow ones. My dad likes to remind me that I'm built like a girl. Not that he needs to.

The silence stretches between us. I nervously clear my throat.

“You've, uh, been looking at me a lot lately,” Kyle finally says.

I can't read his expression or body language in the dim lighting that well, but I'm caught off guard by the uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice. He normally seems so confident, so sure of himself. I can't think of a good response.

“Yeah, so?” The words are out before I can think it through. I bite my tongue in response to my unplanned confession.

He lifts his eyebrows, looking as surprised as I feel. “Why?”

Why? What do I say? I can't tell him the truth. I don't even know the full truth myself.

“I don't know,” I say lamely. My brain doesn't seem to be functioning. I'm so nervous I can barely breathe. I wonder if he can sense it.

“You don't know?” he repeats, sounding puzzled and breathless.

I nod timidly.

He takes a tentative step forward and puts his hand against the locker next to mine. He's tilted towards me. His breath is hot on my face.

“Are you...do you…” He trails off, unable to finish.

I study my Vans, blushing furiously. We've never been this close before. I force myself to meet his gaze. I can see myself reflected in his eyes, looking small and scared. Frail, even. I'm conscious of my preppy button-down shirt and jeans with the cuffs rolled up. I probably look more like a girl than ever. I consider what he was going to ask. Am I gay? Do I have feelings for him?

“Yes,” I breathe, not knowing what I'm answering.

The corner of his mouth turns up in that smile of his that I love. Suddenly, the need to kiss him is burning in me. My knees buckle under the force of desire that grips me. I stare back at him with a new intensity that matches his. My whole being is alive, charged with electricity. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

“Zach,” Kyle whispers. The tender look on his face shocks me.

“Yes?” I whisper back. I force myself to stay pressed up against the lockers.

He locks his jaw, emotions flickering vulnerably on his face. I will him to stay where he is and not come any closer, which of course he does anyway. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. I want to reach out and stroke it…

“Zach?” Sadie’s voice rings shrilly down the hall, cutting through the quiet.

I realize our faces are within a few inches of each other. We both jump and turn at her words. I wonder how shady we look hanging out back here in the vacant, dark hallway.

“Down here,” I say. It comes out slightly high-pitched. I clear my throat and try again.

I watch Sadie’s approach but look at Kyle out of the corner of my eye. He’s stepped back to a respectable distance from me, his face hardening into an unreadable mask.

“Zach, I've been searching everywhere for you!”

Sadie struts up to me in her skin-tight dance outfit. Her platinum blond hair is pulled up high in a ponytail and secured with one of those ridiculously large bows. I'm not really in the mood to see her.

“Me too,” I lie, lacking enthusiasm.

Next to me, Kyle shuffles his feet. Sadie peers suspiciously at him. Uh-oh. Wait, why am I anxious? We didn't do anything wrong. We only talked.

“Why don't you go celebrate with your team?” she says with an underlying hint of malice.

I look down at her, surprised. Does she consider him a threat? Kyle nods and leaves without a word. Sadie watches him like a hawk before facing me again. She comes a lot closer than Kyle was and loops her arms around my neck. She presses her body against mine. Usually, I enjoy physical contact like this with her, but I'm not up for it right now.

“So, I was thinking...do you want to come over tonight? My parents are out. They won't be back until later.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

I don't want to do this. I put my hands on her hips to push her far enough away that she has to let her arms drop.

She frowns at me. “What's the matter with you?”

“I can't.”

“Why not?” Her tone has taken on the same edge it had with Kyle a second ago.

“My parents said they wanted me home right after the game.”

“I blew off the rest of the team to be with you,” she pouts.

My patience for her was hanging on by a thin string, and it just snapped. “I didn't ask you to, did I? I just can't, okay? I need to be home. Lay off!”

Sadie gapes at me. I've never talked strongly to her before. Slowly, her stunned expression slides into the fierce look I've seen on her when she performs. She looks like she could tear me apart with her bare hands.

“Fine!” she spits, bristling.

She spins on her heel and heads toward the lobby. The realization of what I've just done hits me, sending me scrambling after her.

“Sadie, wait! Let me explain!” I pause, then add, “Babe,” for good measure.

I catch up to her in front of the doors. I grab her wrist but she shakes me off roughly.

“Whatever, Zach. See you tomorrow,” she says in a dead voice. She doesn't even turn to look at me and walks out.

I watch her go in disbelief. A moment or two passes before I sense that I'm being watched. I look to my right and there he is, all 6’2” of him. He’s standing alone, watching me. Is he waiting for someone? For me? I don't like how that possibility makes me so excited. I decide I don't care and leave before I can do something stupid like go over and pick up where we left off.

* * *

I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Only one thing plays through my head on replay. Kyle coming to talk to me alone, Kyle getting closer than two guys should be, Kyle almost kissing me...or me almost kissing Kyle?

I clutch my head in my hands, my thoughts spinning too fast. A deep, unexplainable sadness pools in my stomach. Why am I sad? What have I lost? I sense that I'm at a crossroads of some sort. I can stay with Sadie, or see where this thing with Kyle goes, if I could even call it that.

A wave of revulsion washes over me. Why am I even considering cheating on or leaving Sadie? Why am I thinking about a guy like this? Why am I even attracted to a guy? I'm not gay. I'm not even bi. Kyle is the only guy I've ever been attracted to...I think.

And there's still the issue with my parents. They would never stand for this. Imagine if I did come out? I can picture how The Grand Reveal would be received. My mother, sitting stiff-backed in one of our wooden dining chairs, her mouth frozen in a shocked ‘O’, soon to be replaced by an angry scowl. Her cheeks turning that ugly purplish-red color they get when she's furious. Her patting her huge, voluminous hair into its usual vague resemblance of a giant macaroni. Her pursed lips outlined with what looks like orange crayon.

My father, his eyes hidden behind the glare coming off of his round, thick-rimmed glasses, his mustache quivering with the scandalous news. Him glancing at my mother to see her reaction to decide how he must proceed. He normally waits for her to say something before he does.

Them, in their ridiculously outdated, old-fashioned clothes, looking like two dolls sitting around with their play furniture; the antique furniture I am hardly allowed to touch without a lecture.

Me, waiting for their verdict, watching as their horribly styled heads swell with anger by the second. My mother finally exploding on me and yelling, not pausing to allow me a word in my defense. My father nodding along with everything she says, disgustingly passive as ever.

No, I could never tell them. I couldn't let them in on what's racing through my head. No one can know that I'm going back and forth in a vicious game of mental tug-of-war to the point where I’m tied up in painful knots.

My body is burning up with self-hatred and attraction, loathing and desire. I check my phone. I have ten texts from Sadie, all from earlier today. She hasn't tried to contact me after our fight. There are a few missed calls and voicemails from my parents that I haven't bothered to listen to because I know they will be the usual infuriating crap.

I am a prisoner in my own skin. I don't know where to go from here. I don't know who to talk to. I don't have any friends that I could go to about this. I feel so alone. I'm on the verge of tears, drowning in hysteria and fatigue. I check the time. It's four in the morning. My worrying has kept me up all night. I force myself to quiet my fears and drift into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

I arrive at school the next day, running on two cups of coffee and two hours of sleep. I stay in my car for a minute, the engine still humming. My nerves are frazzled, and the lack of sleep and large dose of caffeine isn't helping. I see Sadie crossing the sidewalk with her friends, talking animatedly. By the looks on their faces, I can tell I'm still in hot water. She's not going to let this go easily.

I scan the perimeter for Kyle before opening my door and getting out. I trudge through the parking lot, dragging my bag along with me. I take a sip of my third cup of coffee and yawn widely.

“Hi,” Kyle says as he comes up behind me.

Caught by surprise, I spit out my mouthful and start coughing. My attempt at nonchalance is shot to hell.

He doesn't say anything and effortlessly falls into step beside me.

“Um, hi?” I say once I've regained my voice.

Why is he still talking to me? Does he think there's something between us?

“What's up?” He has his head turned towards me as we walk in sync, smiling slightly.

“Um, just…going to class.” I'm too tired to care about how lame I sound.

We reach the front doors and he goes in front of me to hold the door. I stare, cheeks flaming. What am I, his girlfriend? People are watching us, taking note, talking. Sadie will hear about this. I stalk by him as fast as I can and head to my locker.

“What, no thank you?” He says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

That's it. I grab his arm and pull him into the nearest classroom, which is mercifully empty. I close the door in one swift move. I realize I'm still holding his arm. I let go quickly and avert my eyes, my hand on fire.

“What?” He asks.

I look at him incredulously. “What do you mean what? You know what!”

He just studies my face and doesn't answer. I know I look terrible. I have deep purple shadows under my eyes. But I could care less right now.

I continue. “Why are you all of a sudden doing this? You know, talking to me.” I gesture between us.

He lets out a breath, long and slow. “Isn't it obvious? Haven't I made my feelings clear?”

I swallow audibly, taken aback. “Wh-what feelings?”

He can't meet my eyes as he says, “I like you.” He looks up timidly then. “I've liked you for a while. Haven’t you noticed how I keep trying to talk to you?”

I gape at him, my exhausted brain not computing his words. He's been trying to talk to me? He waits, looking nervous.

“Do you feel the same?” he asks quietly.

“Why are you asking? I have a girlfriend. And I'm...I'm not gay.”

He processes my words with an unreadable expression. The only thing giving him away is his eyes, which are churning with conflicting emotions.

“But do you feel the same?” he repeats. He crosses and uncrosses his hands in front of him.

I don’t want to answer this. Doesn’t he know that? But I know he won’t let me leave without giving him a straight answer. So I do.

“No,” I say. I watch as his face crumbles with sadness and disappointment and hurt.

I ignore the twinge of guilt and swallow my rising regret. I keep my face perfectly blank and neutral.

“I…thought you felt the same. Especially after last night. I finally worked up the courage to talk to you alone,” he says.

I hate myself for what I’m about to say.

“Kyle, I'm straight, okay? I’m with Sadie, which you and everyone else at this school know.” I stop before I go on. His crushed look is killing me. Also, I’m a terrible liar. “I don’t like you. Sorry to disappoint.” I spit, cringing inwardly at the venom dripping from my words.

I look down at my shoes. White Vans again. I risk a glance up at him, and then at my watch. Class starts in three minutes. I want to leave, but Kyle is blocking the doorway, and he doesn’t look like he will budge anytime soon.

“Alright. That’s fair,” Kyle says eventually. His voice is a lot more level than I expected it to be, but I can tell it’s a little strained.

“Yup,” I say, trying to end the conversation.

“Fine.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Zach, I know what I’ve seen when you look at me. I’ve read it all over your face. Can you deny it?”

I waver, almost dropping my facade. I bite the inside of my cheek, looking at his full lips; those lips that I came so close to kissing last night. His defeated gaze drops to mine. He inches forward. My skin crawls with anticipation.

“I can't do this. It just doesn't feel right,” I blurt, shoving past him out into the hallway. My heart breaks.

I immediately find Sadie, who’s surrounded by a pack of girls. They whip their heads around when they hear me approaching. Sadie glowers at me. Woah! What's up with that? We only had a little argument. I pull her away from her friends.

“What?” she hisses.

“Why are you so mad at me?” I demand.

“Hmm, let's see. You snuck off down a dark hallway with Kyle after the game last night, you exploded on me (I scoff at that), Kyle walked you in this morning, and I have more than a handful of witnesses who saw you enter a classroom with him. Just the two of you. Again.” She looks murderous.

“I can explain all that easily. He came to find me just to talk when I was at my locker. I didn't go away with him. I didn't feel like hanging out after the game, so I'm sorry. We ran into each other on the way into the building and talked. Again, yeah.” I can tell by her increasingly suspicious squint during my speech that my unconcerned air isn't being bought.

“And why did you go into an empty room to talk to him alone, just the two of you?”

“I had to...uh, clear up a few things with him. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Nothing I need to worry about? Huh. Are you sure about that?”

I open and close my mouth. She narrows her eyes viciously. The bell rings then and the last of the stragglers rush by, leaving just Sadie and me.

“I need to get to class, Zach. I'm done here.”

“No, wait! What more do you need explained? I told you everything.”

“Everything? No, I don't think so.” The anger melts off her face and the fight leaves her. She looks upset, but not mad anymore. Maybe a little bit afraid. “Zach, remember that time he was staring at you in the hallway? Well, I didn't realize it until later, but…you were staring at him too. Staring at him first.”

I’m petrified.

“Ever since then, I've kept a close eye on him. He watches you. Too much. And I notice that you return the attention. You pretend not to. Just tell me the truth. I know he likes you, but do you like him?”

Lying to Kyle is one thing, but lying to Sadie…it’s impossible. I don't respond. She blinks back tears and nods.

“I knew it,” she says softly. “Have you done anything with him?”

I shake my head numbly. She nods and looks down. I feel horrible, even though I'm not exactly sure what I've done wrong.

“Zach, I really care about you. Sometimes I feel like you don't see that. Or you don't believe that someone like me could be with you. I don't care about social status or popularity or any of that. I just wanted you.” She looks up at me with such a sad expression that shame washes over me.

I'm at a loss for words at her use of the past tense but mostly because she's right. I tend to forget she’s human. Beneath her ultra-hot, self-assured exterior, she has the same insecurities and fears. She's a normal girl with normal feelings. Staring into her eyes, I finally come to terms with the fact that my feelings for her are only surface-level. Hers go much deeper.

“I care about you too,” I say, “but not enough.”

She nods again, accepting it.

“It's best if we don't see each other anymore,” she says, sounding like a character speaking a break-up line from one of those romance movies she's always trying to get me to watch with her.

I don't argue. I agree, feeling nothing. No heartbreak, no sadness. Those are reserved for Kyle for reasons I can't comprehend. I feel only regret for taking her for granted when she deserves someone who loves her wholeheartedly. Huh. Turns out I did take advantage of the situation.

I watch her walk down the hallway. I don't know what I'm going to do now. I gather my things and decide to go home. To hell with the rest of the day. I'll never make it through. I'm absolutely exhausted, not to mention there are two faces I'm not too keen on seeing. I tromp past classroom doors open because of the stifling late spring heat. At one such door, I spot Kyle seated in the front row. I can't help myself.

I stop to study him: his warm chocolate eyes and lovely brown flop of hair. Sunlight spills in through the cracked window, casting light across his forehead. I smile wistfully. It reminds me of the first time he caught my eye months ago, in the same parking lot that he walked through with me this morning. He senses my presence and lifts his gaze to meet mine. I'm overwhelmed by the sadness pooling in his eyes. Wow. He likes me more than I knew. He wipes his face on his sleeve, not breaking eye contact.

I whisper an inaudible word that I know he will still understand. “Sorry.” I really mean it.

I look down the hall and see Sadie entering her class. She sees me looking and gives a small smile. One meant only for friends. I turn back to Kyle. I hold his gaze for another moment before I force myself to move on, in more ways than one.

I step outside and let the warmth wash over me. Summer is quickly approaching. Sadie and Kyle are graduating soon. I will be a senior next year. We're all moving on to the next stage of life. For Sadie, that means an internship in Colorado. For Kyle, it means playing basketball at Duke. As for me, I'm not sure what that looks like yet. I turn the key in the ignition, grateful for the chance to start fresh next year. No girlfriend. No…guy crush. Just me.

As I drive away from the two people who are special to me in exceedingly different ways, I feel my already fractured heart shatter into a million pieces.

---

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