summer lovin’: a story of teenage heartbreak (part 5)

Camp rolled around, and we went our separate ways. It was one-sided, of course, and I had turned into a simpering, lovesick puppy. Pathetic.

That's when my eyes were opened to the truth once and for all.

It started with the little things.

He took her phone and took silly photos. He sat with her on the far end of the lunch table, thighs touching, him absorbing her every word.

They went canoeing, they sang on the dock together, they hung out in the pool while I stared numbly on from the shallow end.

He started playing "Kiss Me" in the rec room.

"Do you know the words to this song?"

She did.

I was heartbroken. I had meant nothing, just a one week fling from last summer. I was yesterday's news.

His sister noticed my misery and told me what I should've known the entire time.

She pulled me aside and said, "Look. My brother is a good guy and I love him, but he's a jerk to girls. He's a player." Somewhere deep down, I had known, but I had been sucked in all the same.

How many girls had he told about the beach house dream? How many times did he say, "You're breaking my heart," to someone else? How many lies had he told? How many lips had his touched before and after mine?

I didn't want to know.

As it turned out, his tricks didn't work on this smart, savvy girl who had probably seen so many other guys act this way before. She was conventionally attractive, athletic, talented... no wonder she already knew every trick in the book.

I should have known better, but I didn't.

I'm glad she did.

(final part 6 followed by a letter to J)