Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

I know exactly who he’s referring to when I remember Xav’s surprise visit at my house to bring me my “homework.” You’ve got to appreciate the irony of him bringing me an earth-shattering orgasm instead.

Coach Diaz pauses for suspense and laughs a wheezy laugh. “Who am I kidding? Xavier Emery, get up here, son.”

The crowd breaks into cheers.

And my heart breaks period.

Xavier rises off his seat, making his way over to the stage. Coach Diaz shakes his hand in a congratulatory way, pats him on the shoulder, and hands him the Player of the Season plaque.

“Hold on.” Xav adjusts the mic to his height, seeing as Coach Diaz is much shorter than him, and the crowd snickers. “Man… I don’t even know what to say.”

Finn curls his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Try thank you!”

Parents, teachers, and athletes laugh again.

“That would be a good place to start, wouldn’t it?” Xav grins, and I hate that even his smile hurts now. I hate that I can’t stand seeing him like this.

Happy.

Not if it’s the last time.

“Thank you.” Xavier inspects the golden plaque up close. “I have to say I’m not sure how much I deserve this. I didn’t carry us to victory this season. The

team did. Great team, great friends, great coach. What else can a guy ask for?”

Yep, I can’t do this.

I glance at Xav one last time and squeeze my eyes shut to snap a mental picture of him in his element, a moment in time where he was carefree. Then I tuck the picture away in a mind drawer. The one labeled, “Things I Loved and Lost.”

Right next to my dad.

“I have to go, I… I’ll call you later.” I pull Dia into a parting hug before squeezing through the crowd at full speed. Faces pass me by as I bombard people with I’m sorry’s and Excuse me’s.

I see Xavier’s mom.

His dad.

Finn’s dad.

Mr. Hall.

They’re all sipping on expensive champagne. They came here to celebrate their brightest stars…. but I’m in no mood to celebrate. Because Xavier Emery was meant to shine in somebody else’s sky. And I’m not quite ready to watch him leave mine.

I’m halfway to the house when Xav stops speaking abruptly. I assume he just forgot what he wanted to say and keep walking.

Running.

Until a low curse echoes through the sound system.

“Fuck, I can’t.”

I halt my strides.

You could hear a pin drop.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Xavier admits, and I turn around, my anxiety shooting through an imaginary roof. “I’m full of shit,” Xav declares after a few seconds of gathering his thoughts, slipping a hand through his slicked-back hair.

No.