I remember the first time I saw Sutton Barnett in perfect detail- like a fragment of time suspended in front of my eyes. I remember his shirt- faded blue against tanned skin that had seen countless hours of the summer sun. Wet droplets peppered his shoulders from where his still wet hair had dripped onto the fabric. He rounded the bottom of the stairs, our eyes meeting for only a fraction of a second before he looked away, but it was long enough for me to know right then and there that nothing would ever be the same again.
And I was right. At thirteen years old, I had predicted exactly what was to come. Some things you just know are an absolute inevitability, and Sutton was that for me. The one thing I couldn’t escape no matter how far or fast I ran. But the distance only made me want him more. Time intensifying the deep ache that I could not outrun no matter how hard I tried. I loved him so much it hurt. But I also hated him almost as intensely.
Over the years I found comfort there- in the space between love and hate. But even I knew I couldn’t stay there forever- that one day I’d be forced to face Sutton again. I just wish I was a hell of a lot more prepared when that day finally came…