Sophomore year, I was placed in AP physics with the seniors. I’m generally pretty unflappable, but being in that class with all of the older kids was intimidating, and being partnered for the year with Will Mercer did nothing to help that.
Will was that legendary guy everyone knew and loved, from the band nerds to the cheerleaders and everyone in between. He was always nominated for something — student council president, homecoming court, basketball awards, and he honestly seemed like one of the nice guys, the kind who didn’t seem to take advantage of their status for personal gain, which made him all that more appealing.
It started off innocently enough. He didn’t have a girlfriend at the time — his on-again, off-again relationship with Kenzie Schroeder was, at the time, in the off position. We worked well together, made easy by his charming conversation and our mutual interests of sports and comics. He was smart — smart and beautiful and funny — and over the course of the first few months of the school year, our chatting and laughter turned into looks that burned and lingered, full of something deeper than I could grasp, at the time. All that I knew was that every day, that fifty-five-minute class was what I lived for and longed after.
We were deep into fall when I found myself sitting next to him at his kitchen table, working on a project. When I looked up to speak to him, I found him just watching me, his face soft, and I froze when he leaned in and kissed me.
He wasn’t my first kiss, but his was the first that I felt from the tip of my nose down to my toes.
I remembered his smile, so strong, begging for my trust. I remembered his warm hand on my cheek and his lips against mine, even now, even years later.
Every day I was at his house, every day kissing him, every day in his arms. At school, we kept our distance, passing furtive glances at each other in the hall, his hand brushing mine in class. But when we were in his room in the quiet afternoons, there was nothing between us. No walls, no rules, just him and I, our hearts. We spent hours talking, kissing, holding each other. And then I decided I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to let go. So I gave myself to him.
He was gentle and sweet, every touch full of worship, taking his time with me, knowing I was a virgin. It was the first time I’d given anyone my heart, and I believed he would care for it — his eyes and lips told me so.
Afterward, I lay in his arms, and he whispered promises. He asked me to be his date for homecoming, asked me to be his. But I already was, and I told him so.
I left his house that day feeling like I could fly. The rest of my night was spent looking for a dress for the dance, and I lay in bed that night, staring at my ceiling with a smile on my face as I daydreamed about every moment of the day that had been, of the nights to come, of the time between, of holding his hand down the halls and being kissed at my locker.
The next morning, I was still high, choosing my outfit carefully, taking a little time on my hair, even wearing mascara and a little lip gloss. I wanted to look good for him, worthy of standing next to him, and I was filled with hope and nerves at the thought of seeing him again.
Nothing prepared me for what happened when I did.
I’d been beaming as I walked the busy hall before the bell rang — I could feel the warmth in my cheeks and the light in my eyes. He was tall enough that I caught sight of him easily, my heart flipping when I did. And then my stomach flipped, and both landed in my shoes.
His arm was slung on Kenzie’s shoulder, and he was looking down at her, laughing at something she’d said. He looked at her like he’d looked at me just the day before, and I wondered if it had all been a dream.
They stopped at her locker, and he pressed her up against it and kissed her, just like I’d imagined he would do to me. Except she wasn’t me.
I didn’t realize I’d stalled in the hallway, classmates streaming around me like I was a stone in the river, and my eyes locked on Will as my chest burned with hurt and shame.
He looked up and saw me, his smile slipping away when our eyes met.
I sucked in a breath before I turned and bolted.
I wound my way through people, eyes blurring with tears, needing air, needing sky, needing out of the building where I felt like I’d be crushed and crumbled if I’d stayed.
I heard him behind me, but I didn’t stop, not until I was under the bleachers. I didn’t want him to see me cry, didn’t want him to see me at all, didn’t want him to know he’d hurt me. But it was no use.
His eyes were so sad when I turned to face him, the pain evident when he apologized. He wasn’t thinking when he asked me, he’d said. We would never work, he told me. He said it didn’t matter how much he liked me or how much I liked him — we were too different, from different worlds, and how could people who weren’t alike work out? Plus, he and Kenzie were both nominated for homecoming court and had a better chance of winning if they were together.
That moment was the first time I’d ever felt like I didn’t know him at all. So I looked up at him with my eyes full of tears and heart busted in a thousand pieces and told him he was right. That it was my mistake because I’d thought we were a lot more alike than we actually were.
He hugged me, whispering apologies before he kissed my hair and walked away.
For a long time, I sat under the bleachers and cried. I’d been stupid, so stupid and short-sighted. How could I have thought he’d really wanted to be with me? His words had been empty, meaningless, but I’d believed every one. I thought it was real, but I was a fool. He’d betrayed me. And for what?