It’s been fourteen months since the last time I saw Sebastian. So much has happened between now and then that I barely even recognize my life anymore.
I spent my last summer with Courtney, enjoying the last remaining weeks of our childhood before we were separated for the first time since we were in grade school. Saying goodbye to her proved to be one of the hardest things I had ever done. But it wasn’t the hardest. That spot was and is still reserved for the one person who never strays far from my thoughts or my heart.
I wish I could tell you that Sebastian and I moved heaven and earth and found a way to be together, but that’s simply not the case. Life is not a fairy-tale or some over the top romance novel where everything is some grand declaration of love. Life is real and painful, and sometimes love doesn’t actually conquer all. And I’ve found a way to be okay with that.
He got moved into the starting quarterback position at the start of his sophomore year, and I’ve made a point to watch as many games as I can. In a way, it’s almost like I’m torturing myself, but at the same time, I can’t not watch. It gives me comfort to see him living his dream. It somehow makes it all feel worth it.
I miss him, I think a part of me will always miss him. But my life has changed so much sometimes it’s hard to even remember the girl I used to be—or recognize the woman I’ve become for that matter.
It didn’t take me long to settle at Columbia. From the moment I arrived, I felt closer to my dad than I ever had before. But being in the city also made me feel closer to Sebastian. I often find myself walking the streets, reliving the words he said to me when he brought me here years ago. I can still hear his voice like he’s saying it now.
“I wanted to be the one to bring you for the first time that way the city will always hold a piece of us in it, something you can keep with you when we’re not together.”
I don’t think he truly understood the magnitude of that gesture at the time, but it doesn’t change the fact that his words still ring true every single day.
Freshman year went by in a blur. I finally picked a major after going undecided for the first two semesters, deciding to pursue a degree in finance. It’s certainly not the choice with the most flash, but I wanted something practical, something I knew would be worth the effort and money when it was all said and done. Besides, I might also have a slight obsession with numbers so it seemed like the perfect fit.
I still talk to Courtney every couple of weeks. She’s adjusting well to Alabama, having the time of her life or so it would seem. It’s funny how different our experiences have been thus far, kind of a lot like high school.
She’s out partying and hooking up with hot frat guys, really living up the entire college experience. Meanwhile, I spend very little time outside of the classroom, library, or my dorm room, preferring to lose myself in my studies rather than in a bottle of liquor.
It’s not lost on me how very different we are, and yet how we’ve always just made sense. Like we balance each other perfectly. I’m the voice of reason, the one who talks Courtney out of the things she already knows she shouldn’t do but probably would anyway. And Courtney is good at getting me out of my head and making me experience things I probably would never try without her encouragement.
I miss that in my life, her constantly in my ear pushing me out of my comfort zone. I’m sure some mornings when she wakes up with a wicked hangover in a guy’s bed she has no recollection of sleeping with, she probably misses me, too.
I’ve managed to make a few friends over the last year but none have come close to what Courtney, Bree, and I have. Even with thousands of miles separating us we still have each other to lean on, and I’m confident that no matter where life takes us, we will always be there for one and another.
I don’t talk to Bree quite as often as I do Courtney, but we still manage to squeeze in a Facetime session every few weeks. She’ll tell me about all the cute things Jackson is doing now, and I’ll tell her about my classes and anything new that’s going on.
California looks good on her, as does motherhood.
She managed to graduate from high school on time and is now taking night classes and working part time during the day waitressing. I’m so proud of her for facing this head on and coming out on the other end a better stronger person.
Everyone has moved on to bigger and better things. Sometimes it’s almost hard to wrap my head around how much everything has changed.
And that couldn’t be more apparent than right at this moment, pulling into a town that now almost feels foreign to me.
I roll my window down, taking a deep breath of the air as it whips around me. Being back in Rockfield is like watching an old movie. I remember every road, every shop and sign, but I also pick up on things I never noticed before. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long or maybe it’s because I was too focused on something else to really appreciate the little things that seemed to just blur into the background.
Like the smell of trees and fresh cut flowers, the sounds of nature, the peacefulness that comes with a sense of belonging. I don’t know that I ever appreciated this place enough when I lived here, but now living in the city with the hustle and bustle of everyday life, a place like Rockfield is a breath of fresh air and a very welcome one at that.
I told my mom I wouldn’t be in until tomorrow, so I’m not surprised when I arrive at her house to find her car gone. I know she’s at work and probably won’t be home until morning. Me being here when she arrives I’m sure will be a welcome surprise.
I don’t get nearly enough time to visit and am ashamed to admit that even though I am just an hour away, this is the first time I’ve been home since Christmas. Considering it’s now June, that’s saying something.
Don’t get me wrong, I miss my mom something fierce, but being here without Courtney and Bree—without Sebastian—I don’t know, it just feels wrong somehow. Like I’m an outsider now looking in.
I let myself inside the house and carry my suitcase to my old bedroom. Because I’ve opted to take some summer courses I only have two weeks off, only one of which I plan to spend here.
I was only able to get a few days off from work and while I know my mom was hoping for more time, a part of me is glad this is all I can give her. I mean, of course, I’d rather be here spending time with my mom than making coffees for people who don’t even have the decency to look up from their phones when placing their orders, but being here brings too much to the surface. There are too many feelings and memories tied to this place. The less time I’m here, the better.
The instant I push my way inside my small ten by ten childhood bedroom I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Of course, my mom hasn’t touched it since I left, wanting to keep it exactly the same so when I come home on break I have my old room to come back to.
Looking around the small space, I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, my eyes stopping on a picture still hanging from the mirror on my dresser. I know every single detail of the picture, but it doesn’t stop me from dropping my suitcase on the bed, crossing the room and pulling it down, holding it gently between my fingers.
God, I remember that day so vividly. The picture is of Courtney, Ant, Sebastian, and me. We’re all clad in swimsuits standing next to the lake behind Sebastian’s house, wide smiles on all of our faces. Every set of eyes is looking directly at Bree who was operating the camera, except for one person whose eyes are trained directly on me like they always seemed to be.
My chest swells and a thick knot forms in my throat. I quickly toss the photograph onto the dresser and walk directly out of the room. Knowing I can’t just sit here and dwell in the ghosts of my past, I grab my car keys from where I left them on the coffee table and head outside to where my beat-up Jeep is sitting in the driveway.
I really don’t have any place specifically to go, I just know I need to go somewhere. So when I climb into Sara Beth and throw her into drive, I have absolutely no destination other than away from here. And that’s okay with me.
After thirty minutes of being on the road, I’ve only managed to sour my mood further. Making the mistake of driving past the high school and then the restaurant we all used to go to every Friday after football games, I let the memories wash over me, a part of me longing for a past I know I will never get back.
I don’t know at what point I end up veering onto the winding wooded road toward Sebastian’s house or why, but once I’ve started that way I can’t bring myself to turn back. Even though I know he doesn’t live there anymore, driving past the expansive property still gives me chills, like a part of him still exists there.
Forcing myself to turn around several miles after passing Sebastian’s, by the time I make it back into town the sun is starting to disappear over the horizon, casting an orange glow over the streets and buildings.
I start to head back toward my mom’s house, but then my stomach lets out a loud grumble and only then do I remember I haven’t eaten today. And while I’m sure my mom has food at the house, I’ve been craving a pretzel bun sandwich from Perfect Pita for weeks, and since it’s just a couple blocks from where I am, I decide to make a quick left and head back that way.
When I pull up outside of the small sandwich shop on the corner, I park my Jeep at the back of the near empty lot and make my way toward the entrance. As soon as I reach for the door handle an odd sensation washes over me, and without thinking I look up, my stomach bottoming out the moment that I do.
At first, I think I’m seeing things that there’s no way he could be here right now. But then he turns his face upward to assess the couple in front of him and a wave of nausea washes over me.
Sebastian.
I’m not sure how long I stand here, my hand suspended in mid-air but never actually reaching anything. I watch as he fiddles with his phone, swiping his fingers across the screen while he waits his turn, completely unaware of where I stand just a few short feet from him.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as torn as I do in this very moment. Every part of me wants to go to him, wants to open this door and run into his arms—a place where I know everything will feel right. The other part of me knows I can’t do that.
We’ve come so far and while I still think about him every day, I know that talking to him, looking at him, seeing that boyish smile and feeling the burn of his hazel eyes again will only upset the very delicate balance I have between my head and my heart. And I don’t think I can do that to myself—not again.
So instead I just watch him through the thin pane of glass that separates us. Him unaware that I’m even here. Me all too aware, able to feel his presence in every single pore of my body.
I take a moment to appreciate him. His broad shoulders and massive biceps, the way the muscles strain against his gray t-shirt—no doubt from countless hours of conditioning, practice, drills, and games. His blond hair is covered by a backward baseball cap, and even from here I can see the week-old scruff he’s sporting.
I swear to god he gets more attractive with every minute that passes. Seeing him on television, clad in his football gear, has nothing on seeing the real thing up close and personal. He really is a sight to behold.
It’s so hard to believe that once upon a time I called him mine. Of course, that seems like another lifetime altogether. A time that would probably feel like it belonged to someone else entirely if it weren’t for the pull in my chest—because despite everything that has happened my heart still knows where it belongs.
I watch him for several more seconds, a deep sense of longing lodged in my stomach. It takes everything in me not to pull that door open but somehow, someway, I manage to find the strength to slowly back away.
By the time I reach my Jeep my hands are trembling, and I feel like I’ve just run a marathon rather than walked just a few yards. My heart is beating so rapidly that I can feel my pulse pounding against my neck.
I take several deep breaths, slowly pulling air in through my nose and blowing it out of my mouth.
It’s for the best, I try to reason with myself. And while I know I’m right, it doesn’t make the act of not going to him any easier.
I don’t make any attempt to leave the parking lot. While I blame it on the fact that I’m still too shaken up to drive, I know it’s really because I want to see him again. Even if he doesn’t know I’m here, I just want to look at him for a moment longer and wish that things could be different.
The longer Sebastian is in the restaurant, the more my inner battle rages and the harder it becomes to just sit here and do nothing when I know I could be seconds away from feeling his arms wrapped around me if I would just move.
My eyes stay glued to the front door, not once looking away. I’m so scared I might miss him that after some time I find myself wondering if I’ve even blinked. Then the gears in my mind start to shift, and I’m left arguing with myself for the next twenty minutes on whether or not that was actually even Sebastian inside or if it was someone who favored him and my eyes simply saw what they wanted to.
In fact, I’ve nearly convinced myself of this when he finally exits the restaurant several minutes later, hands shoved deep in his pockets and his face turned down toward the ground.
My breath quickens with each step he takes in my direction, and I swear I’m on the verge of hyperventilating by the time he rounds on a small sports car that I’ve not seen before, not feet from where I’m sitting. I watch him hesitate at the driver’s side door, and then he turns in my direction.
I suck in a breath and hold it, afraid that even breathing will give away my position. Even though it’s dark at this point and I know he can’t see inside my Jeep, I still slink down in my seat.
He looks around, his eyes only grazing over my Jeep for a split second before he slowly shakes his head, looking a little unsettled, before finally climbing into his car.
I watch him drive away after the longest minute of my life, and the instant he does I’m pissed at myself. I punch the steering wheel, cursing at the top of my lungs at how stupid I am. He was right there—right in front of me—and I just let him walk away.
So what if things won’t change? So what if it would be hard to say goodbye? Wouldn’t it be worth it to see him, to hear his voice, to know that he’s doing well? Wouldn’t that have offered me some semblance of peace amongst the chaos?
Completely abandoning the reason I came here, I’m finally back on the road. Courtney’s voice sounds through the phone held to my ear as she reassures me that I did the right thing.
I don’t know if it was necessarily right. I mean, it sure as hell doesn’t feel right, but I do agree with Court when she says that there’s nothing good that could have come from me going to him.
“I mean, think about it, Tess,” she continues. “Even if things were to go the way you wanted and you two would’ve ended up hanging out, where would that have left you tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the next? You’ve fought so hard to find your place without him.”
“I know. I know.” I let out an audible sigh, wishing the heaviness in my chest would lift so I could breathe without feeling like there’s a thousand pounds weighing me down.
“Look, you’re home right now, in the place where nearly every memory you have together is tied to. It’s only natural that it feels harder when you’re there. And then there’s knowing that he’s in town, too. Just know that if you go to him, you’ll hate yourself for it tomorrow, and you know I’m right.”
“You just love saying you’re right.” I chuckle, finally letting go of some of the tension winding tightly inside of me.
“Lord knows I don’t get to say it nearly enough,” she quips. “Just hang tight. You got two days with your mom and then you’ll have my ass to distract you. And you know how good I am at that,” she promises mischievously.
“I don’t know if I’m down for your idea of distraction,” I object. “But I really can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too. Don’t forget you’re picking me up from the airport at…”
“8 a.m,” I cut her off. “Yes, I know.”
“Don’t be late, bitch,” she teases.
“Late is not in my vocabulary,” I spit back.
“I’ll see you then,” she says before quickly adding, “but if you need me between now and then just call me. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“You have my word.”
“Love you, Tess.”
“Love you, too.” I smile before ending the call just as I pull up outside of my mom’s house.