Fisher excelled at masking his reactions to things, but I had him. I didn’t miss his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. He didn’t see that question coming. A month earlier, he didn’t see me coming.

“I’m not talking—”

“Full. Of. Yourself!” I cut him off, shooting straight up from the chair and planting my fists onto my hips. “You are so full of yourself. What makes you think I’m talking about you? We’re over. Remember? And you didn’t want my virginity. It was too inconvenient for you. So stop assuming you’re some bright star that I orbit.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you so angry about?”

HIM!

Life.

My dad dying.

My mom missing out on my high school years.

Church school.

The cloak of guilt I wore because of church.

God.

Yeah, I was angry at God too because I didn’t understand what kind of god would give me so many emotions, desires, and uncontrolled feelings, then tell me I had to suppress them until I was married.

What if I didn’t want to get married yet? Did “good” Christians get married just to remove the sin from sex?

There wasn’t anything Fisher could say to make me feel less agitated. His silence showed his maturity and understanding of that, yet it also infuriated me. I wanted him to at least try to make a case for himself.

“Why me? And I don’t mean it like I have no sense of self-esteem. It’s not that. I’m not ugly. I’m not stupid. I’m fun. I have a decent list of quality traits. But you’re not ugly either. Or stupid. And you can be fun. But you’re also ten years older than me. With so many options. I just don’t get it. Was I a game? A toy? Were you bored? I know I’ve asked you this before, but I just don’t get it. Why engage with an eighteen-year-old who has no solid direction in her life yet, can’t drink legally, and who’s a virgin. I just don’t get it.”

He let my words settle, dissipate, and vanish, replaced with silence. “What did you like about the mountains?”

I shrugged. “What didn’t I like? The air. The tranquility. The vastness. Just … I don’t know. When we stopped at that overlook, I just liked how I felt. There. In the moment. It’s hard to describe.”

“Because you can’t.”

“Maybe.” I tried to think of the right words, but they fell short.

“Well, neither can I.”

“It …” I shook my head. “It still doesn’t make sense.”