the boy I used to love had grown into a man who saved women in his phone according to what seemed like the season in which he saw them. Or, if I was honest with that dark part of my brain that was putting all the pieces together, they were organized by the season in which he decided to fuck them. They were seasonal fuck-buddies. Gulping, I tapped on the icon to create a new contact and put in my information. I saved my name as Bexley Black: college fling. Handing the phone back to him, I wiped my palms on my shorts, trying to get the feel of his life off me. It wasn’t that I was judging him, I
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