Long distance.

The two words are on an endless loop in my head, and there’s nothing to distract me. There’s also no way to put those two words into any sort of scenario that sounds good. By the time I get to her house, they barely sound like words anymore, they’re just a buzz in my brain like the whir of my gears. Olivia is sitting on the cement step of her porch in her paint-streaked yoga pants, and her hair is up in a messy ponytail. Sometimes it’s hard to remember she’s even the same girl I saw around school with Zander. My car is parked on the street, left from yesterday.

She’s looking down at her phone and when she sees me a smile spreads across her face. She bounces upright, and then two steps forward, until I come to a stop in front of her. I stand, but don’t get off of my bike.

I don’t know how to make small talk right now, so I just spit it out. “You’re leaving?”

She looks down at her feet and chews on her lip. “Not until the end of August.”

“That’s in a few weeks, Olivia.”

“The summer’s gone by really fast.” Her voice is soft and sad but I’m too mad to let it slow me down.

“Were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to disappear into the night?” I think about what she told me about Zander, about their sudden breakup and his escape up north for the summer. Has this whole thing with us just been some sort of weird revenge? She can’t do it to Zander, so I’m a good enough substitute? Any guy’s broken heart will do?

“I was, I just didn’t know when. Or how.” She touches my handlebars and leaves her hand there.

“But you told Zander.”

“Zander told you I was leaving?” I don’t love how she seems to be thinking about this fact, like she wants to ask me something but can’t find the words.

“I just saw him at River Depot,” I offer up, before she asks.

“What was he doing at River Depot?”

“I don’t know, Olivia, that isn’t the point. The point is that he knew you were leaving and I didn’t.”

She shakes her head. “I told him right after it happened. When we were still together. That’s the only reason he knows.” She’s looking at me like that’s a good excuse. Like it’s obvious, and how could I have missed it. I hate that the word that made me feel so hopeful—together—now feels weaponized.