I never loved you. It's cliché to say but I feel the need to start out with that. I did adore you though with that goofy, toothy smile and had to work to hide that from everyone we knew. And I worked really hard for things to work out between us but they were never going to; the harder I fought that realization, the harder we fought.

I didn't even like you at the beginning. That's the worst part. I didn't want anything to do with you past acquaintanceship and I chuckled to myself when you tricked me into giving you my number. I had no clue what you'd do to my world in the next few months, as we always say about hindsight. You were a roller coaster while I was already at the top of another one but I found you sweetly innocent (for the first week and a half).

Your voice on the phone hooked me, easy chuckle and the way your demeanor could travel through the airwaves. I was constantly wired but you'd remind me everything, every little moment, was just that: right here, right now. It would pass and then would come the next, like the waves in the sea. I loved those quiet moments and the photos you'd send me of what you were working on. You pushed me to want to be better, stringing until my fingers stung, but someday my heads would look almost as good as yours. I was alright with being 3rd best. I was always competitive in all the wrong places.

Taking you seriously took some time. I laughed it off when you'd try to flirt but you persisted until I came around, saw you as a man despite that boyish face. And I was shocked to find out what a man you really were. Not a real one yet but maturity, and civility, comes in time. We won't know each other by then.

It was sizzling, passionate, burned out quickly. Before the new year already, I wanted you more than anything else I've ever wanted (except a horse and the first man I ever loved). I looked forward to your texts like a fool, chatting the slow afternoons away. It was mostly you gushing over how cute I was, though. We didn't have enough real conversations to know each other but maybe that was better. I never particularly liked people getting inside my mind.

Yours was full of pizza, cleavage, and insecurities. That wasn't something I could fix, couldn't tell you enough times that you were enough for me to quiet your own storms. I couldn't fix your family problems or your socioeconomic status, no way to change the years between us, that I was post-grad when you weren't. I wish you wouldn't let yourself fall into the same trope repeatedly: poor boy wanting the well-off girl, always picking something out of your league, above your price range. I never thought I was slumming it with you but sometimes it felt like you wanted me to. I wish you could have seen past it because it didn't bother me if we could only get coffee. My tailored dress and you in sweatpants, scarfing down lattes and hunched over your phone looking through Warrior's brand new head, as I'd occasionally glare at the giggling girls two tables over eyeing you. You were mine for a moment, until the coffee went cold.

I should have ended it when you wanted to, the first time, when you dumped me two hours after I lost my job. When we stood out in the rain and I begged you not to, hadn't I already been through enough that day? The last week had been hell and I held onto you as something steady. I couldn't even look at you, just staring out into the night, the floodlights illuminating the steady downpour. It beat down overhead as I choked back my own rain.

You told me it was for the best, that we'd still be friends and you'd be there for me if I needed it as you walked me to my car. I wanted to hit you as you hugged me but I collapsed into it, holding tight for the three seconds. I told you repeatedly how awful you were the next day and a couple weeks later after a rebound and a few shots on my friend's birthday. Jealousy pulled you back because someone else showed interest in me, had gotten a piece of me you hadn't. You hung onto my every word because we were always drama, no calm past two weeks ever. You wanted me back, hot mess, hot fun. And you always wanted me until you didn't.

I'd focus on the good, the 30%. Your face when I opened the door, hands on my back as you kissed me until I couldn't breathe, following me like a lion as I skittered through the hall in an oversized hoodie, teasing you... running my fingers through your thick, wild hair and rubbing the stubble on your jaw as you closed your eyes for a peaceful second before we got as close as close can be. All the little secrets I knew about you: your misspelled middle name, that you can't pick a favorite color like me.

I should have told you I was proud of you when I had the chance. I should have told you how I felt when you held my hand, sitting on the fireplace with me as I burned the paper that had ruled my life for years. I remember your limbs corralling me, moving my hands as I tried to string a new pocket. I remember sitting in your car, shivering after I took off my coat. The heat didn't work but I wanted to be closer. "Bloodfeather" was playing on the radio as my knee hit the door with a resounding thwack and your hands cradled my face. And when you picked me up cause my dress was too tight for me to jump up on my own, spinning me around first, my arms wrapped around your shoulders. You stood in the doorway grinning as I looked down and kissed you. I also miss the window overlooking the bay, how I loved that view. You came up behind me, standing at my back, watching me watch the waters on that gray day.

We lived in other people's lives with no haven of our own. For a few hours we'd hide away and when it ended, one of us would walk out the door while the other locked up; our lives never really interconnected. Your friends didn't know me and mine hated you for dragging me through this. You lied about where you were and I'd sneak off, trying to tell myself this was worth it. And as soon as you'd pull me into your embrace it was. It was worth every painful moment, every argument I'd start, you slinking off or ignoring me. I started dating other guys to get back at you, smirking as I rubbed it in your face. You won though because I lost you. That night celebrating your birthday and my life coming back together felt hollow even as we met in the middle, inhaling each other. You closed the door on me for a month.

The resulting four months were confusing and ugly. You hurt me over and over again, as I had done to you. I must have apologized a dozen times but it was too late. We could barely be in the same room anymore, your eyes like storms and mine the drenched forests. It didn't matter that we had bonded over the same sports or a favorite band, that I had grown to like your soft camo coat and drifting accent. You stared at me with ferocity, except for the three seconds where you looked me up and down. I froze, my body coursing with electricity as it always had when you gazed at me. Then, like lightning, it was all gone. Sometimes you would text me and I could feel everything coming back together but it would come back to all of our fights. We were never on the same page at the same time. Neither of us were bad people, but we were bad for each other.

I did what you said, surprisingly wise words, and focused on myself. I had the time of my life for 30 days and thought afterwards, we would get back together and be healthy this time. The palpable awkwardness when we ran into each other seemed like a good sign but a couple weeks later you said you'd found someone new.

It's still hard when I pass a car like yours and look to see if it's you though I know it won't be. I feel the occasional desire to go see you months later but I know I shouldn't. I've already said enough.