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She's only five years older except it feels like she's worlds away from him, even when they stand face to face. It really shouldn't hurt so much to love someone, but it does. Sometimes he can convince himself that he wishes they never met, but eventually, he realizes that he could never feel that way. Shining eyes, beautiful laughter, and wisdom beyond her years sound amazing when you read about it, but he should know better than to expect such a perfect woman. The problem is, he doesn’t. He’s only 18 when they meet, after all.
He doesn’t think that his age was ever really the problem.
When the silence feels uncomfortable, he sometimes asks about Jake, because he just has to know. Usually, she just stares at him for a painful minute and leaves without a word, coming back the next day like nothing had happened. But on rare occasions, she shares snippets of their short time together, and he hangs on to every word, wishing he could make her feel that way.
He doesn’t think he ever did.
When she leaves, it doesn’t feel like that much, to his dismay. He realizes it never even felt like she was there, with him. The winter ends and he hasn’t heard from her, not once. He goes to all the events that she possibly could be at, but he never finds her.
A year passes and he hasn’t heard news of another guy, not that he’s been keeping track. Only more and more female friends, mostly models, and of course, her stardom rising to heights previously unknown. She seems happier than she ever had, and it makes him feel uneasy. They have a lot of mutual friends, and he wonders if it’s a coincidence. He never asks them how she is.
When her album comes out, he buys it so fast he could be mistaken for a stalker. He listens to the 16 songs on repeat all day as he lies on his bed, notebook untouched and unwritten on. He knows the speculation will be overwhelming about the subject of her songs, but he also knows the truth, that none of them are about him.
And as he looks up at her apartment in New York, he thinks that he still loves her.