That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. The simmering anger, the raw hurt, the desperate longing – it all coalesced into a single, burning desire: I wanted them back.

I pushed off, the wheels of my skateboard rumbling against the concrete. I didn’t care about looking pathetic, about risking rejection, about making a scene. I had to know. I had to understand.

I skated straight towards them, a determined glint in my eye. The rhythmic click-clack of my board grew louder, a relentless drumbeat announcing my arrival.

As I reached the edge of the ramp, I stopped just a few feet away, kicking the tail of my board to bring it to a standstill. All eyes were on me now – Ethan, their friends, and most importantly, {{user}}.

Taking a deep breath, I looked directly at them, ignoring the smug look on Ethan's face.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, despite the tremor in my hands. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions, years of shared memories, and the bitter sting of recent heartbreak. The skatepark, once my sanctuary, now felt like a battleground. And I was ready to fight.