It was just under a year since the day we met, that we became more than friends.

When the Fall Semester began, I was eager to see him again. We kept in contact over the summer months through Facebook, and couldn’t stop myself from smiling whenever I thought of him.

When I did see him again, I didn’t say “hello.” I was exiting my class and was walking across the stone path toward the Midway when I saw him. He was walking in tangent with another female, and even though my eyes lit up and I wanted to run towards him and give him a hug- I didn’t. I stopped.

I felt ashamed. I didn’t know this woman, and made the logical conclusion that she was his girlfriend, and that it would be stupid of me to even consider him and I ever becoming a couple. Up until this point, I never shared my feelings with him. I wanted to, but believed deep down then that he did not feel the same way. I told myself not to bother, not to try.

So I turned on my heel and walked away before he could spot me.

I don’t remember who initiated the next step. But before I saw him again, I found myself flirting with a different man. This man was also a student of the college, a military veteran. He was attractive, single, and available. But he wasn’t what I wanted. Wasn’t who I wanted.

I found myself texting Savitar again. I found myself wanting to be by him, missing him; his company. Even if we never became a couple, I missed our times we shared together. I enjoyed spending time with him, and he seemed to feel the same with me.

He invited me over to his apartment. I met him at the back parking lot, as he stood by his car waiting for me. I was blushing, nervous, and yet so calm finding myself in the seat beside him in his black Honda once again. I felt almost at home with him.

Shortly after I spilled it to him, telling him how I felt. Telling him of the fears I had by telling him this, about how I thought he was already taken for.

He felt the same way about me, but warned me. He warned me to not get mixed up with someone like him.

I didn’t listen.


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