After he throws away the condom – the one that I didn’t even see him put on but was really thankful that he had – he comes back to the tent. We lie around for hours talking, laughing, and exploring each other’s bodies.

He tells me all the things that he loves about my body, and his admiration makes me think differently about it too. I thought I had big hips, but he says that they are just big enough to hold on to. I have always thought I had small breasts, but Tristan disagrees.

“They’re the perfect size. I don’t understand how you don’t see it. Look, they fit right into my mouth, hardly any spillover!”

I blush. No one has talked about my body like this before, and I feel myself falling in love with his admiration. I love the way he looks at me and the way his words make me feel.

When I wake up a few hours later, the sun is beaming down on me through the mesh screen of the tent. I’m all alone, and the combination of sleeping bag and sun is making me sweat profusely.

“Hey, how are you?” I climb out of the tent. I feel a little groggy and tired from last night, and my legs are sore. I try to hold on to the top of the tent for support, but it collapses under my weight.

“Hey, you’re finally up,” Tristan says.

His hair is tossed, and he’s not wearing a shirt. Every muscle in his strong, wide shoulders bulges as he stuffs the rest of his remaining supplies into his already overstuffed backpack.

“Yeah, sorry, I must’ve slept in.” I shield my eyes from the sun. Am I really seeing this? Why is he packing his backpack?

My backpack is near the pine tree on the other side of the campsite. I hadn’t unpacked it at all.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry to do this.” He looks up and comes over to me.

“Do what?” I ask even though I already know. He is leaving. Leaving me.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“What? Why?” My voice goes high, and I want to stomp my feet. I want to do everything and anything to change his mind.

“I’m sorry, Annabelle. It just came up.” He tries to put his arms around me.

“What came up?” I pull away. “What’s so important?”

I know that I sound like a child. We just met yesterday. I have no right to make any demands on his time. He doesn’t owe me anything. And yet, I can’t help myself.

“What about everything we talked about last night? About going on today. Together? At least for a few more days? What about that?”

“I know. I know. And I really wish I could do that. I want to do those things with you. You have no idea how much. But I just can’t. It’s something for work. I can’t really explain, but I have to go.”

I shake my head.

“You’re a rafting guide, what kind of emergency could’ve possibly come up?”

He stares at me. Then looks away. The expression on his face looks as if he had forgotten that.

“I’m sorry. It’s something for my dad. It’s something I do on the side,” he says.

But the words don’t come out easily. He’s searching for them, trying to remember something. It’s a lie. I can feel it. Was all of this a lie?

He’s rejecting me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.

“But I want to stay in touch. We both live in LA. I want to see you again,” Tristan says, wrapping his arms around me.

I try to push him away. But he doesn’t let me.

“No,” he whispers. “I want you to know that I don’t think last night was a mistake. Everything I said was true. Everything we had last night was true.”

“If it were then you wouldn’t be leaving.”

“No, that’s not true. Sometimes there are things beyond our control.”

Tristan leans down and presses his lips to mine. I want to push him away, but,at the same time, I want to savor this moment. This will be the last time that I will see him.

I know that even though he has promised that it wouldn’t be. So I kiss him back as passionately and with the most love that I can muster. Our lips pressing hard and our tongues intertwining. I want to stay in this moment forever, but I have to be strong.

I pull away first. He’s just tilting my head to get a little bit more of a taste when I push him away.

“Okay, go. If you have to go, go!” I say and start to walk away.

“Annabelle.” He catches up to me just as I grab my backpack, tossing it onto my shoulders. It’s much heavier than I remember, and I wince from the pain.

“I don’t even know your last name,” Tristan says.

“York,” I say, immediately regretting telling him.

“Annabelle York,” he whispers. “How beautiful.”

“I have to go, Tristan,” I say, turning away from him.

I don’t want him to see the tears that are building up in my eyes. They’re tears of loss and pain. Tears of the wonderful moments we shared and how they are now gone. Tears of the pain of never having him again. But mostly, they are tears of pity over everything else that I have lost in my life and the sadness that I feel for myself in this moment.

“How can I contact you? What’s your number?” Tristan asks, refusing to let go of my arm.

I gather whatever molecules of strength I have left within me and reply, “I’m not giving you my number.”

I refuse to give Tristan my number because I know that he only asked for it to be nice. He wouldn’t be leaving right now if he actually felt the way I thought he had felt. And asking for my number and pretending that he is going to call is a lie.

A beautiful lie that I desperately want to believe, but I can’t. I have been disappointed enough in my life.

My pride makes me walk away from Tristan even though all I want to do is run back to him, wrap my arms around him, and beg him to stay. I hate the feeling that he has over me, the feeling that makes me into a needy, helpless little girl. And yet I am stronger than that.

He’s leaving me, so I decide to leave him first. Who the hell does he think he is? Does he think that I’m just going to wait around for him? Does he think that I actually believe him when he tells me he’s going to call?

Contradictory thoughts swirl around in my head making me dizzy and tired. Last night, for the first time in weeks and months, had been a high. It made me realize that perhaps there is something about life worth living.

And right now, I feel lower than I have felt in months.

I want to run to get further away from Tristan and my feelings for him. But the bag that I carry is too heavy for that. All I can do is walk a little faster. Put one foot in front of the other a little quicker.

And the further I get away from him and the night we shared, the better I start to feel. The pines grow thicker, cradling my sorrow in their blossom. As the undergrowth gets taller and lusher and the trail gets narrower and narrower, I start to feel an unfamiliar tingling.

No matter what has happened, no matter how I feel now knowing that I will never see him again, Tristan has opened my eyes.

He reminded me of the life that I am missing, the life that I once had. He isn’t just Tristan. He’s also a symbol of life and hope and passion. All the things that have disappeared from my life over the last few months. All the things that make life worth living.

And for that, I am grateful.