I sat on the beach alone. It was the first night of summer, and while other people my age were out partying, I was content to just sit and remember. It was pathetic, really. With all that had happened this past year, he should be the last thing on my mind. All I could think about, nonetheless, was if he would keep his promise to me. Last August, on one of the final days of summer vacation, he had whispered in my ear, “When summer comes back, so will I.”
Summer was here again, though, and he wasn’t. I still held onto some small, foolish hope that he would text, call- anything really. After nine months of no contact, I was anxious to hear from him. Ideally, I would like to see him again. My unattractive desperation to see him made no sense to me. We hadn’t even dated. He had wanted to be just friends, so I complied, sort of. Despite his best efforts, I still managed to fall in love with him.
He couldn’t love me back, of course, and I don’t think he realized how much pain that caused me. This summer, I swore that if he came back, I wouldn’t accept friendship. I would make him fall in love with me.
Until I see him again, his last words to me will ring forever in my mind- “Never forget.” And believe me, I won’t.