At least I no longer feel a lump in my throat when I talk about him. Or see him. I’m sad that he’s no longer in my life, but it’s easier than I expected.
I messed up. He couldn’t forgive me. But I’m okay. He was a great first boyfriend, and he made me feel loved and beautiful, but that doesn’t mean he’s the right person for me forever.
I’ve dated a few people since the summer, but no one longer than a couple of weeks. I’ve been concentrating on my classes, and kicking butt on NYU’s intramural softball team, and doing student teaching at a public elementary school on the Lower East Side. I spend my free time exploring the city with Emily and Lauren.
“I heard you’re not going back to camp,” I say to Gavin.
“I’m not. I have a summer job that pays good money, at an investment bank. In New York, actually. Who did you hear that from?” he asks.
“Botts,” I say. “I’m actually on my way to meet him now. He’s in town for the weekend, too.”
“No way,” he says. “So, are you around this summer? We could hang out.”
“I’m not, actually. I’m going back to camp. I’m head of juniors.”
“Ha! Funny.”
“It was so nice to see you, but I have to go,” I say. I give him a quick hug and keep walking.
I push open the door to the restaurant.
Botts is waiting for me at the bar, and his face lights up in a huge smile.
“Hey, Rosenspan,” he says. “Wow, you look good.”
He looks good, too. Taller than I remembered. He’s sunburned across his nose, and I bet it’s from his job teaching skiing to little kids on the weekends during the winter.
“You look sunburned,” I say.
“And are you glad to see me?” he asks.
“I’m very glad to see you,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “Because I’m very glad to see you.”
He pulls me into a hug. He feels solid and warm and genuine. He smells like soap and the suede of his jacket.
I hold on to him a little longer than intended.
The summer is only three months away.