As I walk away, each step crunching on the dry leaves and pine needles, I can feel his eyes on my back. The warmth of the fire fades behind me, replaced by the cool night air. At least one of us is having fun. Casual Vince, with his easy laughter and casual touches, gets to play without consequence.
I wander toward the beach, a good ten-minute walk past the campsites. After taking care of business in a bush, I collapse onto my back in the sand near the shore.
The beach always feels different at night.
My hair is going to be full of sand lying here like this, but I don't care. The icy breeze brushes against my face, refreshing and grounding all at once. Despite the darkness and barely being able to see the water, the sound of the waves hitting the shore is a soothing constant, a rhythm that steadies me.
I have feelings for Vince.
Not just attraction. Not just sparks and teasing games. Real feelings... deeper, messier ones that creep in without warning.
It hits me like a freight train as I stare up at the endless expanse of stars above me. The moment Vince starts talking about Samantha, about his elaborate plans to surprise her with a trip to Hawaii, I realize just how far gone I am. This isn't some harmless crush or a fleeting infatuation. I care about him, deeply. Too deeply.
I want Vince to be happy. Not in some abstract, surface-level way, but truly, completely happy. He deserves it. He deserves to know he's enough, to stop worrying about whether he's meeting everyone else's expectations. I see it in his jokes, in his hesitations...thelittle cracks in his confidence that make me want to pull him into a hug and never let go.
And that's when I know I'm in trouble.
My fantasies shift from lustful daydreams to something far more dangerous. I'm not just imagining his hands on my body anymore; I'm picturing lazy mornings tangled togetherunder warm blankets, his hair tousled and his laugh soft. I'm wondering what his favorite breakfast is, or whether he likes to cook. I find myself replaying the way he smells in the early mornings when he picks me up for our runs, fresh and clean, with just a hint of something comforting. I think about how he looks utterly lost when he asks me for advice on texting his teenage daughters, and I wonder what it would be like to meet them someday.
We're both tethered to other people, yet here I am,lostin feelings thatare wrong. Something inside me is broken, a compass spinning without north.
At the fire, I want to tell him he doesn't need to give Sam anything at all, that he is the gift. It's cheesy and ridiculous, but the words bubble up anyway. In my mind, he'd laugh and call me anerd, and then he'd kiss me. And somehow, we'd figure it all outand live happily ever after.
I groan, covering my face with my hands. How have I let this happen? This was supposed to be harmless fun, lighthearted teasing. Instead, I've walked straight into emotional quicksand, and now there's no way out without getting hurt.
The waves keep rolling in, steady and unchanging, as I lie here trying to sort through the mess in my chest. Vince's earlier words in Latin drift back to me. Simulatio amoris pejor odio est. Pretending to love someone is worse than hating them. He knows. Somehow, he knows how I feel about Ted.
How does he see through me like that?
And he's right. I don't love Ted. I never have, and I don't think I could.
The connection I feel with Vince is something entirely different. It's electric, rare, and real. A current runs between us whenever we're near each other, invisible but undeniable. Being around him feels safe. It feelslike coming home to a place I've never been but have always longed for. I never second-guessmyself with himanymore, never worry that my words will land wrong or that my thoughts are too strange. He sees me, all of me—the awkward pauses and the stubborn pride, the quiet moments and the loud laughter—and likes me anyway. That's something I didn't even know I could have with someone.
I close my eyes and let the sound of the waves drown out my thoughts for a while, but one truth is crystal clear. There's no future with Ted. Not now. Not ever.
The right thing to do is to end it with him.
Lying here in the sand, the breeze tugging gently at my jacket, I let that decision settle into place. It's the only way forward.
When I finally find the will to sit up and brush the sand from my hair, the waves are still there, constant and calming. Maybe they've been trying to tell me something all along: keep moving. Let go. Find your way.
I'm going to break up with Ted.
Chapter 17
Just Until After Christmas
Andrew
TedandIareout to lunch... his idea.
I still haven't managed to end things with him since the camping trip, despite multiple attempts.
That trip was about two weeks ago, and I've tried three separate times to work up the courage to break it off. Every time, I chicken out. I've never been the one to end a relationship before. I'm always the one who gets dumped. This is uncharted territory, and I have no idea what I'm doing.
Is it okay to do this right before Christmas? Does Ted even celebrate Christmas?
I keep waiting for the "right" moment, but I'm starting to realize that moment isn't coming.
