How could I have ignored the time Rey commented on my neighbors’ little sister’s physical appearance? “Man, she’s going to be a heartbreaker,” he said in a way that no grown eighteen-year-old male should be using to refer to a ten-year-old. I found the comment inappropriate, but said nothing. And, how about the time a girl, who happened to go to my school, came up to me and told me that she was my boyfriend’s girlfriend? Or the time he implied that he’d lost count of how many girls he’d f-cked? Or the time when someone told me they saw him making out with some other girl at the beach? The signs were so many, right in my face, and I chose to look away.
It was hard to accept that my little fantasy was over. He was my first love, after all. He was my first kiss and the first living man I had ever shed tears for. Letting go was hard. But he was also the first boy to break my heart, and that was harder. If I’d stayed, I’d be stepping on my own dignity. There would be no back-on this time — we were off, forever.
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