I stared into the fire, finally I said, “There was a girl.”
No names.
Didn’t need one.
Leo knew.
“You still think about her,” he said.
I remember huffing a laugh.
“Not all the time.”
So I told them.
Not everything.
Just the part I’ve never been able to replicate no matter how many girls or parties or polished, easy setups tried.
“When I kissed her, it was like sticking my hand in a socket,” I said. “Like every atom in my body lit up and I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
I can still see Jade’s face when I said it.
The way it softened.
The way Leo just stared at me over the rim of his glass.
Then Leo said, very quietly:
“And you let that walk away.”
The plane feels too small all of a sudden.
I shift again.
Look out at the dark.
Because yeah.
I did.
And now, after years of silence and distance and every wrong life I tried on in between, I walked into a Stanford gym and found her there like fate got tired of waiting for me to catch up.
I can still hear myself in that kitchen when Leo asked the last question.
“You transferring because of that? Trying to find lightning?”
And me, after too long:
“No.”
A beat.
Then:
“…Maybe.”
Jade laughed softly.
