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Junior year. I hadn't dated anyone since him, or even thought about dating someone since him. He aimlessly flirted with anything with two legs. He even flirted with me.

I don't think he knew how much it hurt.

Once we got back from summer break, I tried my hardest to act like nothing had changed, and for him nothing had changed. After we broke up sex became something of a normality for him. Maybe he was good at it. I couldn't tell through the pain, emotional and physical. I had made no impact in his life, and I haven't in years.

Every single day hurt more than the previous, every time he looked at me or stood near me, it hurt. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't avoid him; my friends were his friends, his friends were my friends. We went to the same study sessions, the same parties. Seeing him was an everyday occurrence, no matter how much I wished it wasn't.

There was a party meant to change everything, thrown by our football team, our resident turn-up-throwers. As stupid as they usually were, they were right, everything did change after that night. People were betrayed, left cold in the street without friends, while others stayed inside with the warmth of love. Sadly, I was right in the middle, and so was he.

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