He Was Never Mine

My boyfriend, Liam, was this super-genius, a real cold fish, and absolutely hated being touched.

We'd been together for years, but we'd never done anything remotely couple-y. No holding hands, no pecks, nada.

I just figured he was wired that way, and I'd resigned myself to a totally platonic relationship.

Then, on his birthday, I took a forty-hour Greyhound bus ride to see him.

And I saw him under a streetlight, smiling, lightly tugging on some girl's ponytail, and then, get this, holding her hand.

That's when I knew I was done.

"If some other chick's touched him, he's too dirty for me."

He went completely ballistic, totally losing it.

1.

It had been fourteen days since Liam and I had last talked, and today was his birthday.

Clutching the present I’d bought with six months' worth of waitress tips, I rubbed my butt, which was completely numb after the forty-hour bus ride.

From Ohio to California, basically across the country.

Standing under the streetlight near the University of California campus, I couldn't help but feel nervous about Liam's reaction when he saw me.

Probably the same as usual, right? Expressionless.

Maybe a nod of acknowledgment.

He was always like that, like some emotionless robot.

Thinking back on the fight that led to this silent treatment, I couldn't help but sigh.

The distant light caught a familiar figure, and I started to move towards him, then noticed he wasn't alone.

A girl with a high ponytail, dressed in workout gear, was laughing with Liam.

And Liam...

I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so relaxed.

The girl was chattering away, and he reached out, gently tugging on her ponytail.

She playfully swatted his hand.

Instead of getting annoyed, he joined in the playful banter.

The streetlight cast a warm glow on them both.

A cute couple, messing around under the moonlight.

Like something you'd see in a rom-com.

But I wasn't feeling very romantic.

The reason why was because our argument had been about Liam’s personality.

He was a local boy genius, a real brainiac, fast-tracked into UC at seventeen.

By twenty, he was already this rising star in academia.

But he also had his quirks.

Liam was pathologically repulsed by physical contact.

He wouldn't do contact sports, wouldn't ride public transportation.

In middle school, he'd nearly beaten up a classmate for accidentally touching his hand.

And I, as his girlfriend, wasn’t an exception to his no-touch policy.

We didn't kiss, we didn't hug, we hadn't even held hands.

On our anniversary, under the fireworks, I’d tiptoed and pecked him on the cheek.

His eyes had been blank, and his quick step backward had stung for weeks.

I kept telling myself that was just how Liam was.

But sometimes, I felt a pang of resentment.

On Valentine's Day, my roommate went public with her relationship, posting a photo of her holding hands with her new boyfriend.

I'd screen-shotted it and sent it to Liam, half-joking that it had been three years and we’d still ne...