It’s been six months—six fucking perfect months with Paige. I love her more every day. The guys on my football team tease me all the time for being pussy whipped, but I don’t even try to deny it. Hell yes, I’m pussy whipped by Paige. The guys don’t get it because they don’t love their girls like I love mine. I can see my whole future with Paige, now more than ever.
We still haven’t had sex yet. Since that first night four months ago, we’ve done everything except for sex. Paige has been saying she’s ready—for sure ready—but I didn’t want to push her. I know it’s a big deal for girls. It’s a big deal for me, too, but I care a lot less about the specifics of how it happens. But I know Paige always imagined something special and romantic. I’ve been trying to plan it out. I was thinking about waiting until prom, but that’s still two months away, and it seems a little cliché. I’ll figure it out. I’ve got plenty of time.
I pull up to Paige’s house and see her already sitting on the porch steps. I get out of the car and head over to her. It’s not until I get closer that I notice tears are sliding down her face, and her eyes are blotchy and puffy like she’s been crying for a while. I run the rest of the distance to her and sit down, wrapping her in my arms.
“Paige? What’s wrong?”
She hiccups and bursts into more tears, burying her face in my chest as her body heaves from her sobs. I have no idea how to handle this. I’ve seen Paige cry before, but never like this.
“Paige. I need you to talk to me, baby. What happened?”
She lifts her head, and a look of anguish crosses her face. “We’re moving to Chicago.”
I feel like I’ve just been tackled on the field, hard. I can’t breathe, and my heart feels like someone is squeezing it while simultaneously trying to rip it from my chest. I can barely manage the words, “What? When?”
She sniffles, and tears continue to pour down her face. “Next month. My dad’s company is transferring him. It’s a promotion apparently.” Her voice drops as tears continue to stream from her eyes, the anguish on her face telling me this doesn’t feel like a promotion, but a death sentence.
This can’t be happening. She can’t leave. Not now, not when we’re so perfect together. My brain is struggling to process this information. Apart from last summer, when I was away at football camp, Paige and I have never really been separated. I can’t imagine her not being at school or coming to my games or just being around. My whole life seems so profoundly entwined with hers.
She starts sobbing again, and I hold her close to me. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to take away her pain when I’m struggling with my own. I thought Paige and I had forever.
We’re only sixteen. Can we really make a long-distance relationship work?
She hugs me tightly and whispers, “I don’t want to leave you, Jack. I love you so much. I don’t want to go.”
I kiss her hair and hold her tighter against me. “I know, baby. I don’t want you to go either.”
I’m struggling to keep my own emotions in check right now, but I need to stay strong for Paige. We have to make this work. I can’t live without her.
