It's Always Been You

A Player's Proposition

High school sweethearts.

There's a reason why so many of those relationships don't make it far beyond graduation day. You get together when you're just kids, really. When life is easier and the biggest thing on your mind is that math test at the end of the month.

For some people, maybe those are the good old days. Less to stress over. More time for fun and games. Taking your mistakes as learning experiences, because you're young and naive and don't know any better yet.

High school is a bubble.

You've got your friends, your classes, your activities. Everything happens in those halls and on those grounds. Your whole world revolves around that microcosm. And in that little self-contained universe, high school sweethearts make perfect sense.

You're together all the time. Passing in the hallways, sitting together at lunch, going to the same parties on weekends. You share so many experiences, big and small. The homecoming dance, the battle of the bands, even just daily routines like meeting at your lockers. It all ties you together.

And the future? That's this abstract, far-off concept.

You can't even envision it yet.

All you know is right now, this moment. So you love hard and you love fast, because what else is there? When you're a high school sweetheart, that passion feels like it will last forever.

But then graduation comes. The bubble bursts. Suddenly, the world is much bigger, and there are a dozen new ways to lose one another in the crowd.

Nate and I were high school sweethearts, one of those couples people assumed wouldn't make it past graduation.

But there I was, sitting in his dorm room, proving the naysayers wrong. We'd defied the odds, our relationship surviving that pivotal transition from the high school bubble into the real world.

I busied myself with a book, waiting for him to return from class. In those hallowed high school halls, our lives had been perfectly intertwined - shared classes, activities, that insular social circle.

Now, we were navigating the challenges of being a college couple. Our schedules rarely synced up, with lectures and labs scattered throughout the day.

I hoped we could grab coffee later, get some quality time together. Those little moments were precious these days. The things that once bound us - the routines, the shared experiences - had frayed.

People warned me college would change everything, that our silly little high school romance would fizzle away and get lost between the realities of adulthood.

And in some ways, they were right - the transition was tough.

But Nate and I were determined to be the exception.

The door flew open with such force that I nearly leapt out of my skin, expecting Nate to come tussling through. Instead, a shirtless stranger burst into the room, his movements frantic as if fleeing a mythical beast.

The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud, echoing the urgency of his entrance.

Hunched over, the dark-haired boy leaned against the door, gasping for air. His dishevelled hair clung to his forehead, damp with exertion, as he gulped down deep breaths. Every fiber of his being radiated distress, a palpable aura of panic that filled the room.

I sat up straighter, my eyes wide with a mixture of intrigue and apprehension. This was not the typical scene one witnessed in a college dorm, and curiosity gnawed at me, desperate to unravel the mystery behind his frenzied arrival.