10 Seconds Away, Two Worlds Apart

Where It Ends

We both loved different people, but I think Lucas and I knew deep down that if we had never met them, it would have been us. Maybe this is some idealistic bug crawling into my ear and burrowing itself in my brain, but I believe it could have been the greatest thing to ever happen.

The great romance that could have been ends where the tragedy begins: Mateo.

His full name was Mateo Bennett. He was whoever he wanted to be. Mateo was the type to declare he was an artist on a Thursday afternoon, and in less than a year, his paintings would look as if he'd been studying fine arts his whole life. He was logical yet a dreamer, a risk-taker who was both careful and spontaneous. My God, he was everything I wanted but could never have. And his smile was cute.

We met on the cusp of spring. It was one of those "jump to life" feelings when I deviated from my typical boring day and decided I needed some new scenery. I got in my car, drove to a random park I had Googled, and basked in the sunshine and the joyful humdrum of children enjoying their innocence.

As I strolled along the pavement, I caught my first glimpse of him. He was sitting on one of those foldable camp chairs with a journal splayed open on his lap, a half-empty beer bottle placed on the grass to his left. His friends surrounded him on similar chairs and a picnic blanket as they chattered and drank. The party centered around him like moths drawn to a light.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. I settled on a bench adjacent to their group and watched as they laughed and relished each other's company. It felt nostalgic and envious. Once upon a time, back in high school, I had that. Moving to another state for university tore it away from me. Sure, my friends and I would catch up through the occasional FaceTime every month or so, but it wasn't the same. And, yes, I had made a few acquaintances here and there, but I never found a core group of friends that would hang out together in a park on a random Tuesday.

After a brief silence among them, Mateo placed his little notebook on the grass and suddenly stood up, stretching his arms to his sides. He tipped his head back, shut his eyes, and grinned. It was a soft smile, his lips stretching comfortably. Not like how he was posed—as if he expected the sun's rays to envelop him like a long-lost brother. This smile was relaxed and blurred around the edges. Content.

I scoffed to myself. What a dramatic display. I anticipated his friends making fun of him, but instead, smiles spread across their faces too. Fond smiles this time. One of them pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Mateo. And as he settled back down onto his frayed and flimsy little chair to take another swig of his beer, I realized that I was smiling along with them.

I think it was right then that I fell. It was in that moment that my story with Lucas ended before it had even begun. How could I ever see magnificence in anyone else but Mateo? How could I ever love anyone but him?

On that day, one of his friends caught me staring at their entire charade and waved me over. 'Come here,' the gesture said. I blinked once, twice, before cautiously and awkwardly walking up to them.

"Saw you looking over," she said, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder. Everyone's eyes were on me at this point. Mateo tilted his head, looking at me curiously, as if trying to peel back layers and understand what lay at my core.

She continued: "You look kinda lonely. Wanna join us?"

"Oh..." I mumbled. "It's alright. Sorry for staring—"

He interrupted me, chuckling and smiling with his perfectly straight teeth in the most Mateo way. Dazzling.

"Nah, you're joining us," he teased. "You're really pretty."

At his comment, I felt the reddish twinge in that girl's hair flush up my face. I was burning. I never stopped burning after that.