"I knew I wanted you.

I knew that I did. I didn't know you very well but everything from your hair to your style to your laugh told me that from the moment I started talking to you. But I thought I knew better than to get involved. I'm leaving. I'm about to go off to another country. I couldn't start anything now.

So I held back. I didn't flirt. I didn't give in to my instinct when you gave me the opportunities – hundreds of them – to compliment you or to reach out. I didn't let myself. I thought I could handle it.

It wasn't until I saw you talking to him that it happened. I wasn't thinking very clearly, otherwise I wouldn't have been watching you at all. But then you sat down with him and my reservations disappeared. I couldn't think of anything else besides the way you leaned in towards him, by the way he made you laugh.

I was jealous.

I was jealous of the man that could have been me, should have been me. I was jealous of his proximity to you, of the fact that I was so far away. I was jealous that your gaze was directed at him, your smile was for him. I was jealous that when he said something, you easily slid your phone across the table, and let m get your number. I was jealous that he had a future with you.

And also, I hated him. I hated him for being the man to step up, who seemed to have taken my place, filled my role. I hated that every time he looked at you, he took in your beauty. I hated the way he leaned back and touched the brim of his Yankees baseball cap when you spoke. I hated that you looked at him in that sweet way you once looked at me. I even hated myself for not living up to that look.

But mostly, I wanted you. I sat there and I wanted you so much that I think I forgot to breathe. I wanted you so much that I had to leave. I don't remember leaving or picking up any of my things. All I remember is the sickness in my stomach at the thought he might one day lean in and kiss you-

I was outside sitting down because I couldn't have made it the 5 minute walk to my room. I kept shaking my head, trying to clear the fuzz that had filled it. I remember looking around but not seeing anything.

Not until you walked by.

Then I was shaking, on my feet. I was following you, with so much whirling through my head and my heart that I was surprised to be walking straight. But I caught up with you.

Your name fell out of my mouth, and you stopped and looked at me like you were surprised I remembered it. I almost laughed at the irony.

You said my name, and it was a greeting, a question. But coming from your lips it was the most amazing sound that I could have heard. And for a moment I couldn't think what to say. So you said something, a question, if I was ready for my trip. And it all came crashing down on me, the hopelessness, the total and utter impossibility of us being together. And so I said yes. You asked a meaningless question or two, which I answered mindlessly. That seemed to satisfy you, and I could tell that you were ready to go. So I said goodbye and watched you walk away, unable to believe that I had just let you go again.

Later when I was driving, leaving campus for the last time, a pedestrian stepped out into the crosswalk ahead of me, running a hand across the brim of his Yankees baseball cap.

I hit the gas.