He's still wearing the ring that I gave him four years ago.

He can't stop talking about how protective he is of his new girlfriend.

I think "You sound jealous to me."

He says "You smell good" as he hugs me. He always says that. She doesn't wear perfume.

He gazes first at the sparkle in my ears then searches my fingers for the ring he gave me. It would have matched this skirt perfectly. It's missing.

I smile sweetly at him as I hand him my key and detailed instructions on what to do with the cats while I'm gone.

Light filters in the blinds all around me and I want to say "Don't bring her to my apartment, don't have sex on my bed." I realize I'll only sound jealous and surprisingly, I'm not. I'm only happy.

The longing in the pit of my stomach isn't for him at all, it's for a boy miles away who I haven't seen for three days that feel like eternity. When I wake in the middle of the night feverish with desire it's for that boy, and not anyone else.

The chatter between us now is fairly meaningless. He wants advice from me, but I never ask any from him. I don't need to relate his skewed view of me to myself anymore. I'm not the girl he thinks I am.

When I walk to my car I feel clear and relieved that that part of my day is over.

We leave in two days. I'm scared, I'm happy, I'm excited.