Watching his retreating form was like watching the shoreline disappear as I drifted out to sea. I wanted to call him back and make him stay so I didn’t lose that feeling of breathlessness he had created. But I knew that yearning was reckless and counterproductive to everything I’d worked toward—like bingeing an entire pizza after a week of clean eating—only so much more catastrophic. Someone like Keir Byrne would decimate the landscape of my life. Why was I even thinking about him?
