“True love will triumph in the end – which may or may not be a lie, but if it is a lie, it’s the most beautiful lie we have.” – John Green

Nash's bedroom is almost dark. We're lying on his bed, watching a movie. My head is tucked in the crook of his neck, and he is rubbing small circles on my back.

Now and then, he lowers his head to my face and kisses my lips. They are small, innocent pecks, the ones that fill my insides with warmth. They feel safe. He feels safe.

Afraid to doze off, I sit up and rub my eyes, taking advantage of an uneventful scene in the comedy I chose after making sure I didn't watch it with Brian. I want new memories and new experiences. It's been nine months of missing him and wondering why I wasn't enough for him to stay. 

I need to move on. I can't be another Grace who never forgot her first love and spent years alone and bitter. I need to move on, but the thought scares me.

"What's wrong?"

I didn't realize Nash had muted the TV. He lifts his hand and caresses my cheek, peering into my eyes.

"Everything is okay," I say, smiling. "It's just that it's getting late."

Nash hugs me to him and kisses the top of my head. "I know, but I was hoping you'd stay."

I look up at him. "And the guys?"

"Nobody would find it weird to see you here in the morning, Leah. You're my girlfriend. So?"

"I don't know. Maybe some other time?"

After a brief pause, Nash nods. "Come on; I'll take you home."

***

I unlock the door to my apartment and let myself in.

Tara comes up to greet me, holding a glass of wine.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm your roommate," I say, chuckling. "I kinda live here too."

"I believe you do, but you said you had a date. Did anything happen?"

"It's late."

"It's a little after nine."

I kick off my sneakers and make my way to the living room. "Did you finish unpacking?" I ask, flopping down on the couch.

Tara nods and then points to the bottle on the coffee table. "Do you want some?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

My new roommate grabs another glass and fills it with wine. The glassware is hers. Annie and I didn't splurge on that in the short time we spent sharing the apartment. All we had were two glasses that didn't look nearly as expensive.

I take a small sip of my red wine and hum when my taste buds register the flavor. "It's good."

"Three hundred a bottle."

Tara's tone is nonchalant when she says it. She lowers herself onto the couch and traces the rim of the glass with her fingertip.

Three hundred?

I can't help staring at the blond girl next to me. 

Tara shrugs. "My father owns a chain of restaurants. I know a bit about drinks."

"Yeah, it's just that...damn. I think I've never tasted anything that costs so much. I was poor growing up."

I don't know why I said that. I usually avoid talking about my past at all costs. Nash asked me questions, and I dodged them, scared of going into too much detail.

"Who cares?" Tara shrugs. "That was before. And no worries. Money isn't an issue. I like the good stuff. Speaking of, why don't we go shopping tomorrow? I want to get some things for this place."

"Okay," I say. "I wanted to buy some new clothes."

Tara's eyes roam my outfit. "I think I might help you with that if you let me."

"Sure, but within my budget."

I smile when Tara chuckles and shakes her head. 

"So, who's your boyfriend? I assume the same hot guy I saw you with when we met."

"Yeah, that's Nash."

"Small dick?"

I snort, spilling the three-hundred-a-bottle wine onto my hoodie. "Tara!"

"Why else would you cut the date short and sit here with me instead of being with him?"

"It's not about the size, although we haven't slept together yet."

"Tell me more."

Tara refills our glasses and makes herself more comfortable. She puts her chin on her folded arm that's resting on the back of the couch and waits for me to speak.

"I don't want to rush," I say. "Nash and I have been dating for two months. I feel it's too soon."

"Who's the other guy?"

"What?"

"The one who broke your heart. Come on, Leah. You're going out with a gorgeous guy who's clearly into you. If you aren't taking things further, there must be a reason. Usually, the reason is someone else."

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

For a moment, I keep quiet. But then, I speak. "His name is Brian. We met my senior year, and I hated his guts. He was my neighbor, bold and obnoxious."

"And hot."

"Yeah. I don't know how it happened, but we started dating. I fell head over heels in love. He was my first guy. Pretty much everything worth remembering in my life happened with him."

"Why did you break up?"

"His best friend had an accident. Brian blamed himself and left. He spent the night with me, we made love, and in the morning I found a note, in which he said he loved me and he was sorry. It hurt more because it was the first time he told me how he felt. I know he moved abroad nine months ago. He wanted to start over without me."

"What an asshole," says Tara. Sympathy fills her beautiful eyes. She scoots closer to me and draws an arm around my shoulders. 

We sit in silence for a while. "I laminated the note, you know?" I say. "I still keep it."

"To torture yourself?" 

"Stupid, isn't it?"

Tara picks up her glass and twirls it in her hands. "I'm not the one to judge. I don't have lots of experience with love. I went out with several guys, but I never cared about them enough to think I loved them. You're the one who has to decide if clinging to what could have been instead of truly moving forward is making you happy."

I dwell on Tara's words long after she's gone to bed. 

All I did was hope and hoping got me nowhere.

I jump off the couch and go to the hallway to get my purse. Once it's in my hands, I take out the wallet and retrieve the note.

I grab a lighter next and pad to the windowsill in the living room. I sit on a small cushion, put the note on a platter, and light the rectangle, watching the flames lick the reminder of my heartbreak.

The smell of burnt plastic makes me cough. I open the window and observe as the words disappear one by one. 

Maybe time does heal. Perhaps I am finally ready to let the time heal me.

And so part two begins.

Happy New Year. I hope it's a good one. We deserve it.

Thank you for being on this journey with me.

Love you!
Alwyn