My Super Mutant Family

01

Keagan

I looked over at the boy sitting next to me, his eyes glossed over from the tears that were bound to come spilling out any second. He was covering his big green eyes with his messy brown hair, and shielding his quivering lip with his oversized sleeve-covered hand. I didn't feel anything though; he was just another person I slept with and mooched off of for a few months.

We were parked just outside the university dorms. I could already hear the buzz of returning students filtering through the open car window - laughter, thuds of suitcase wheels, voices calling to old friends. It felt like the summer had folded itself up in a neat, forgettable little envelope and tossed itself out the window. And Derek, poor Derek, was still trying to hold the edges of it together with trembling fingers.

"So, you're serious Keagan? We're done; just like that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but heavy with disbelief.

I nodded my head in response, a little shocked and annoyed that this was taking him so long to process. It wasn't complicated. We weren't complicated. That was the point.

"So what am I supposed to do?" he said, blinking fast like that might keep the tears from falling.

"I don't know." I groaned, turning my head toward the passenger side window. "Go to a bar tonight, tell some mildly attractive man that your ex-friends-with-benefits was a total douche and 'broke up' with you after your summer fling. I told you from the start how this was going to be, it's not my fault you had the idea you could change my mind."

He didn't respond right away, just let his head fall back against the seat. I could see the tears actually welling up in his eyes now, turning green into a murky glassy mess, but nothing I said was a lie. I never put a title on us, I never asked him to be my boyfriend, and I told him from the start once school started back up we were done. Honestly, I just needed him for a house to stay at during the summer months - his parents were always out of town, the air conditioning worked, and his fridge was always stocked.

It was transactional. Everything in my life usually is.

"I think you should go..." he whispered, voice strained. I complied gladly, relieved to be done with the drawn-out goodbye. He was kind enough to let me grab my bag from out of the back of his car before pulling out of his parking spot.

"I really hope you find someone who does something like this to you, Keagan. I really do."

I smiled slightly at that - a bitter, private sort of smirk - knowing there was no chance in hell that I would ever be that stupid. But I nodded again, if only to spare him the humiliation of my honesty.

"If it helps," I said, tossing my bag over my shoulder, "I know you'll find someone great. I'm just that stepping stone you had to get through in order to find it."

I knew I was right. He was a great guy. Generous. Kind. Great in bed. The kind of person who would hold your hair back if you were sick, memorize your coffee order without trying. Someone would love him one day. He had that kind of heart.

But to be honest, this wasn't the first time I've used that line.