It was a Friday night. I had not seen you in almost a year. You wore khakis and a gray T-shirt. I wore black pants and a teal turtle-neck tank. You looked better than ever. It was nice. We were a little shy for the first few minutes. Then, you touched my hand. That’s when it got reckless in the most innocent way. You would lean in close to talk or put your hand on the bar next to me. Eventually, you put your hand on my waist and I felt calm in the midst of the chaos in the bar. The night went on.

Flashback to last summer, I drove almost an hour to see you whenever you wanted me to come over. I planned to visit you when you were away at school. I became close with your mom. I befriended your brother. I wanted to know why you missed home and if you missed Maryland when you were not here. You put water before toothpaste. You love the color blue. You love Kauai and Maui. You love sunsets and adventures. If you’re not watching sports, you are laying by the pool. Swimming to the soft voice of Jack Johnson, loving summer.

You loved my petiteness. You complimented so much about me. You seemed to adore me. One day, next to your pool you said “What are we doing?” confused, I said “laying in the sun?” You giggled. I continued “What do you want to do?” we came to the agreement to end our tiny spark because you would be four (yes, only four) hours away. You’d be busy with work and school—like all college kids. You had a roommate that sat on his phone when he was not busy. He was talking to his girlfriend who lived back home, wherever that is. You hated feeling ignored. You did not like being attached to your phone like that. You still don’t. That is OK. When i’m around you and i’m on my phone for a little too long, you stop it. You press the lock button and gently say “hey.” I am OK with that.

I love being around you. I like the way you say “yeah” and how your New York accent gets worse when you drink a little too much. Or how your words are all short o's. I love when we go back and forth saying words to see what we say different. I laugh at your accent as you laugh at mine. To ourselves, we don’t have an accent. You giggle when I drag out my o’s. You chuckle at the fact that I say “That is so cute/pretty!” at everything I like. As you scrolled through my Pandora stations you were surprised that I like reggae because alternative was all that played in my car. When I saw your eyes in light, I was surprised that they were not brown. They are a beautiful combination of brown, green and yellow within a dark blue ring. We love so much about each other. Unfortunately, we do not love each other.

Back to this summer, we are no different. We do the same things. We drink the same drinks and eat the same wraps. This time, it is not just a few weeks. It is a few months. That was exciting to hear. We are extra playful. Will it end the same? Probably. So, at the end of summer, you will go back to New York and I will stay here. We will make plans for me to visit in the fall or winter and they will fall through because of blizzards or work. Again, I will not see you until next summer.

Here it is: I am tired of feeling so loved while knowing nothing is there. There might not be a next summer. I’m not sure how you nor I feel about that. I love it all so much. So there you have it. I wish you the best in this last year of school.