It was so hard to love a boy so desperately when you knew that it was never that serious.

On the outside, maybe you looked stupid. Tashi would tell you that, any of your friends would try to get through to you. They would tell you Patrick didn't really care, or that you were wasting your time, or that you deserved better. And maybe you were, and you did. But it didn't matter when Patrick was with you.

You just wanted to be someone's first choice so badly. You longed for that someone to be Patrick, a boy who you'd put countless hours of love and emotional effort into—but each day, it sounded less and less possible. Because, Patrick could kiss you softer than anyone ever had. Patrick could whisper that he loved you when your naked limbs were tangled together. Patrick could call you his. His, like you mattered at all.

But it didn't matter. Not when, in the ears of his friends, you were an easy lay when he was bored. Not when he would tell Tashi to her face that he settled, that he would pick her over you in a second if she would give him a chance.

You fought with him endlessly about it, too. You weren't the type to suffer in silence—no, you would scream at him, call out his bullshit. But it didn't really matter, you always ended up in his sheets anyway.

"Since the beginning, this has never been a serious thing," he spat. Either he didn't notice how much this killed you, or he just didn't care. The latter seemed more likely. "I'm so fucking sick of explaining this to you! If you really want someone to play fuckin' house with, you can look somewhere else."