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with him.” The nerve of him. Yet, I know he’s right. The pull he has with my dad, it would only take one conversation, and this date wouldn’t take place. I resign myself to the awkwardness that’s about to take place when I hear Tim’s voice. I muster up a smile and walk out to try to make this situation less painful.
    Surprisingly, they go easy on him, and we get out without any bloodshed. Dinner is nice, conversation is flowing and then he asks, “What’s up with you and Lucas?”
    “We grew up together. He classifies himself as my big brother and best friend.” Those words sting. A lot.
    “How do you classify him? It just seems like more. I like both of you and don’t want to step in where I don’t belong.”
    “It’s a first date, Tim. Relax, you aren’t overstepping.”
    Once I make it home I notice Luke’s truck is gone, and my mom tells me he headed back to school once I left. I call him and get no answer. Three days later, after numerous calls, voicemails, and texts, he finally calls me back. Apparently he had a camping trip with Lisa and some friends, so he was unavailable. It’s the first time in twelve years he has ever been unavailable to me, and it sucked. Yet, it set up the next year and a half. His visits are less frequent and more stilted. We are no longer Luke and Phoebe. We’re virtual strangers, forced to be together because of our proximity and our parents’ friendship. I cried more times in those months than I did in my entire life combined. He hurt me: his callous attitude over what our friendship has become, his unreachable feelings, and the fact he doesn’t even attempt to hide his exploitations of the opposite sex. He’s fucked more girls than Hugh Hefner’s had playmates. It’s disgusting and disrespectful to me, but I still never confront him. I allow it to happen, quietly hoping he will come back to me.
    When he missed my performance last week, the most important moment in my dance career, I knew our friendship was nothing more than a fleeting memory to him. I wasn’t expecting anything big from the audition, but I had always promised my mom I would perform. Whether or not I pursued it was left up to me. Auditions were open, and I danced well. I poured my heart and sadness into perfecting the choreography. I was mourning the loss of my relationship with Luke. Saying farewell to the person who held your heart wasn’t a pretty thing. By the end, I had tears in my eyes, and my mom had them streaming down her face. She said I was a shoo-in and needed to make a decision. There was no decision to make; I meant what I told him that day in the tree house. I want to be here, teach here, and make my home here. I don’t have aspirations to dance around the world. It was a prestigious chance, and one I didn’t turn my nose up at, a lot of hard work goes into it, coupled with grueling hours and pain. It isn’t my dream, but dancing will always be my passion. It didn’t matter where I did it, as long I was happy with it.
    The dreaded senior prom is among us. I remembered the night two years ago, and wondered what it would be like to experience prom with someone I loved. Tim and I remain friends, as most of my dates and I do. We just didn’t have that ‘it’ quality. Nothing wrong with any of them, but there sure as hell is something wrong with me. I want the elusive boy who vanished from my life, and no matter how many times I tell myself to move on, I never do. I picked up the phone a hundred times to ask him if his offer still stands, but I never followed through. Instead, I shopped for my dress with my mom, went to the salon and had my hair done with my friends, and will experience my last high school event with seven other dateless females. We tell ourselves this is our choice, but the truth is the one person each of us wanted to go with, didn’t ask. So, instead of speaking the truth about us being a pile of losers, we cling to the lie that we’ll have more fun with