Summer Apart by Amy Sparling Page A

insistence. For months afterward, he called me every day just to say hello and ask how my day was going. He took every chance he got off work to come down to Texas and hang out with me under the guise of being here to hang out with Jace. Those first few months is when all the making out happened. I’m not going to say those nights were mistakes, but they were what cracked me. Those experiences, the cuddling up to Park in the privacy of my room when my parents were asleep, or sneaking moments alone in his truck before going to the restaurant with Jace and Bayleigh, those were the times he managed to slip into my heart. Those five glorious times we made out after I technically broke up with him, those were the worst.
    Those hurt me.
    Bad.
    When Park is back home in California, doing whatever it is that famous motocross racers do, I can easily forget about him. He becomes a memory, a mirage of someone who used to be here but isn’t anymore. I can swallow myself up in real life and the things that are in front of me here in Texas, and I can get over him. In fact, it’s almost easy.
    That is until he comes back. Then I fall apart at the seams. The spring semester of college sucked for most part, because instead of having any art classes that are actually interesting, I had to take a full course load of core classes. I used the excuse of too much school work to distance myself from Park the last few times he visited. I haven’t seen him in over a month and we haven’t texted each other in two and a half days. And I’m so pathetically not over him that I can’t even pretend that I’m not counting the days.
    Trust me, two and a half days without so much as a “Good morning, beautiful” text really does a number to a girl’s self-esteem. And I know it’s all my fault because I told him we couldn’t be together. So in a way, it’s not Park that has my heart catching in my throat at the mere sight of him. It’s me. It’s all my fault.
    If I were a little bit more reckless with my decisions, I might have stayed with him and allowed myself to date a man who I know would most likely cheat on me. There is no way a small town Texas girl is in any way better than a gorgeous California girl.
    When I left class, I had been heading to the parking lot, but now after dredging up all the memories of Park from last year and allowing myself to dwell just a little too long on the fact that he hasn’t texted me at all in nearly three days, I make a U-turn and head toward the college café. I need something to soothe my aching heart and a cold caramel mocha from the coffee cart will be a good start to healing my reopened emotional wounds.
    Like an idiot, I pull out my phone while waiting in line and check for any new messages. There are none. I mean, duh. God, you’d think a girl who is smart enough to Just Say No To Hot Dangerous Boys would be smart enough to get the hell over them after a year.
    I stare at the text messages on my phone, staring with Bayleigh and then my mom. Park’s name is fifth down on the list. The last thing he said to me was “Sounds like a blast.” It was Netflix binge-watching night for me after a weekend of pretending to study. I had told him I was popping a bag of popcorn and planned on eating it all by myself while watching Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. until I passed out. I guess you could say it’s all on me because I didn’t reply to his last text, but that’s never been something he cared about before. He double texts me all the time. At least, he used to.
    Maybe he’s still upset about the conversation we’d had before I mentioned Netflix binge-watching. I had been complaining about school and how all of the basic required courses are absolutely stupid and have nothing to do with my dream career of doing some kind of art for a living. This had prompted him to once again suggest that I start selling my mixed media artwork online and try to turn it into a real job.
    Every time he mentions this stupid