It was a June night, and we sat in the bed of a truck, legs tangled in a mess of humans and hearts beating in sync.

Only one car passed that evening. I remember it clearly. It was an old Honda. The back bumper was crumpled like paper and the engine sounded like it was looking for a drink of water. A scratchy throat or coughing fit was waiting to release itself. I looked closely as it passed. The people inside were probably around seventy years old, with an old map sprawled out on the dashboard and the dome light illuminating the scrunch of their brows. They looked lost and confused; they looked kinda like us. I guess you never outgrow your confusion.

The boy I liked at the time, Bryan, touched my hair with his rough football-playing hands and breathed in near my ear. I laughed and tucked my sweatshirt – his sweatshirt – tighter around my body. I may have been wearing this piece of him, but I still hid behind it like my body was a secret not to be shared. Maybe … I wondered. Maybe he deserves to finally know me. Maybe I can’t keep me for myself forever, despite all the ways that I try.

He moved closer to me and my heart raced. This felt newer, scarier than when we’d kissed on the bench in front of school while I waited for the bus. It was no longer sophomore year, and the ripped jeans with the paint stains didn’t fit anymore. Sometimes I wondered if Bryan still fit me like a friendly sweater. He was warm and comfortable, but I wouldn’t have cared all that much if he ended up in the donation pile.

My friend Sadie laughed from her corner of the truck bed. Her boyfriend, Patrick, mirrored her expression of pure joy. The two of them weren’t meant to be together. It was an accident of the universe that owed its thanks to miscommunication. You couldn’t question it, though; Sadie expelled so much radiance.

I was jealous even though I seemingly had no reason to be. Bryan and I were golden. The yearbook had stated it; my parents had stated it; even my older sister, with bright purple hair and a Yale law degree, approved. And she never liked agreeing with me.

Streetlights were nonexistent to us. It would be miles before we even approached the city limits. I thought about what it would be like to stay here forever. I could live off potato chips and never change from my track team T-shirt and beat-up yellow sneakers. My parents couldn’t nag about college. Teachers couldn’t remind me of slipping grades ….

“Do you ever feel like talking, babe?” Bryan asked.

My silence wasn’t meant to be hostile. Lately I can’t do anything the way I’m supposed to.

Bryan, the boy with the shaggy brown hair and puppy dog brown eyes, never called me by name, just “babe,” “honey,” or “love.” Why can’t he call me Mandy? Oh, what I would give to just be Mandy again.

I met his eyes and answered, “Only when the right person comes along.”

It was a shot at him and he knew it. Instantly his eyes widened and his grip loosened, but I didn’t mind. My body wasn’t up for discussion. I didn’t want to lose my virginity after a football game in celebration of his success. I’d feel cheap. I’d feel used. I’d feel like my body was only a reward for him and that I didn’t deserve to win too.

A cold breeze rolled in and raised goosebumps on my arms. For once, the universe agreed with me.

Sadie and Patrick stared into each other’s eyes while the radio played a Katy Perry song from two summers ago. It was anything but about true love, though for some reason they soaked it in like it was butter and the two of them were the bread. The upbeat tune prompted me to reconsider my position. I sat up, placing my hand on Bryan’s chest, and flashed him the only smile I’d shared all night – the one that showed I was done. I couldn’t play this part anymore. Maybe he didn’t realize it in the moment, but I could no longer give my life to someone who didn’t acknowledge that I also had one worth living.

That night was the last time I saw him. I was headed for the East Coast, and he was playing on the football team of our state’s biggest university. We had so much to live for, and I felt like I was being suffocated. His desires and accomplishments were stealing the oxygen from my air. I couldn’t have any dreams when I was so busy making his come true.

I didn’t cry the way I thought I would when we parted. It wasn’t a loss at all. And although I never got those two and a half years back, I did find a piece of me that I hadn’t realized was missing.

My high school years were characterized by a boy with shaggy brown hair, and my future was dependent on him too. We were gonna get married and have two kids and a golden retriever. Things changed, though, like they always do. I no longer wondered. No one was going to answer all my questions, and I couldn’t keep asking them.