Jonathan Levy was complicated to say the least. He’d been complicated even before his divorce, and only became more so after getting tenure, having the privilege to deliver a TEDtalk and starting to sleep with one of his students.

Jonathan wasn’t a fuck boy, but you had never tried to lie to yourself or convince yourself that Jonathan loved you. Sure, he would give you affirmations and say the sweet things, cuddle you and give you after care, but you always thought them to be part of the deal- just sweet little lies he fed you to keep this thing going. And it did, because even if you were honest with yourself there may have been a tiny part of you that had hope. In AirBnB’s in the next town over, in your apartment, and in rare moments like this- in the reclined front seat of his car, you couldn’t help but at least hope that with all of this…maybe they weren’t just lies.

The windows of the car were fogged, and as Jonathan’s body stilled on top of yours you could feel his ragged breath against your ear, so you could not have been mistaken when you heard the words “I love you” escape him.