The Star

A tall kid, at 5’8”, he was certainly pudgy, but attractive in my mind. I had always appreciated boys who were intellectually stimulating, and could make me laugh, regardless of their size or shape. He was no different.

We began dating only three months into our freshman year. I had him in one of my classes, though I can’t remember which. He played basketball, and I was the basketball captain (which really meant I was there because I liked boys), so we often talked excitedly about the upcoming season, in between the “I love you” and “What did you bring for lunch?”

Only weeks into our “relationship”, his older brother started to harass him about dating me. It wasn’t that he didn’t like me, see, it was that his older brother’s friend didn’t like my best friend. David assured me through our neatly folded notes that we would pass during, before, and after class, that his brother’s opinion, and more importantly his brother’s friend's opinions, were not important.

In the end, his brother’s friends won out overall, and he broke up with me only after a short month of dating. It was Christmas time, and we had already bought presents for each other. We shared a humiliating present exchange after the breakup, smiling politely as we opened each other’s gifts. “I’m so sorry,” he said before he left.

He arrived the first day of our sophomore year, toned and trimmed from a summer of running and frequent basketball practice, looking less like my beloved boyfriend and more like the basketball captain he had become. President of student council, captain of the basketball, baseball, and cross country teams, and Homecoming King. To me, he was just a boy who had left me for his brother.

Years later (fourteen, fifteen years?) he still shows his face in my dreams. I can see it clearly, just as he was before we graduated – tall, athletic, a clean, dark buzz cut, gorgeous brown eyes, full lips, and a beautiful smile.

Only this time, his brother is the one left in the dust.