Again, this is a muddy timeline. Depression steals memories from you, whole swathes of them. There are months that are missing: October, November. But we aren't there quite yet. It's still the summer, just the end of it.
He breaks up with the girlfriend. We kiss. Not in that order. And not that easily. There's a lot of back and forth, breakups and makeups. He and I both cry a lot, sometimes just one of us to the other, sometimes both at once. In between, I meet his family. Our mutual friends find out. There was one night drinking so much Spotted Cow beer that we jumped in the lake naked. There was a night where we made out on a boat under a meteor shower. We kept having scenes like that, situations that felt scripted. I remember them and I hear a soundtrack playing, not even that faintly.
The girlfriend is out of the picture. We aren't dating, but I sleep in his bed. He asks me to be his girlfriend at night, then takes it back in the morning. My friends tell me to snap out of it. To [try something else][try something else].
Back and forth. The girlfriend, still abroad, is back in the picture. And I think no, no more, I'm stopping this. After this weekend, I'm stopping this.