It would be reasonable to predict that I, Flora Morgan, would not hold up well in a long distance relationship.

When I had Sean beside me in NYC, every minute tasted like it was sugar-coated. I was floating on a cloud and every time I glanced sideways he was there, tall and handsome and very much mine.

When our plane landed in St. Bart's, it started to turn sour. My parents generally gave us a lot of freedom in our luxury resort, so consequently me and my brothers would all be out meeting potential targets (friends, for me, and something less innocent for them). We would only join one another for breakfast as we shared gory details over freshly baked croissants. I used to love it, but this time I missed Sean so much I couldn't enjoy anything.

I sat by the pool half the time texting him, but he was busy doing family stuff in Miami. Over at his grandparents' there were lots of holiday activities combined with lousy Wi-Fi reception, so Sean didn't always reply back as eagerly as I hoped. I understood, but it didn't stop me from getting in a pissy mood. Every phone conversation deteriorated into a fight, until I wasn't quite sure what the point of calling each other was anymore.

I knew it was because of the contrast. I was too used to holding his hand all the time, and now I was left with a gaping void. It felt like quitting some sort of hard drug cold turkey.

"You can't squeeze out twenty seconds to send me a text?" I accused one evening, pacing in my room, all the while knowing I was acting stupid but I couldn't stop. It was like watching the bimbo in a horror movie walking into a creepy garage; you know she shouldn't but she's doing it anyway.

"Didn't I send you one in the morning?" Sean's tone was decidedly less patient than the last time this subject came up, which was-fine, last night.

"That was like half a day ago."

He paused for a few seconds. "Flora, I don't want texting to turn into an assignment."

"I'm not asking you to hand in a paper. Just a quick I miss you would be suffice."

"If I really just texted that, you'd be mad." He made total sense, which of course made me madder. "Besides, Christmas is a time for family. I don't want to check my phone all the time. It's rude."

"So now I'm rude, on top of everything else."

"Can you just be happy that your loving boyfriend calls you every night like he promised? I really do miss you, you know that. Just..." He sighed. "Give me a break, please."

There were three sentences that irritated me the most in a conversation, which would be:

a. You are overreacting.

b. What do you want from me?

c. Give me a break.

These were also the three most frequent things Sean would say, in random order, and sometimes all at once.

The call ended without getting completely out of hand. I told him I loved him, and even though it came from the heart, it served more as a peace offering. He said it right back like an echo.

For the rest of the evening I spent my time cyber-stalking people, but my mind was elsewhere. I had to wonder what would happen when we went off to college. He would be obscenely busy with his engineering courses and frat parties, and he certainly wouldn't call me all the time either. When he came to see me on the weekends, we would argue and he would try to comfort me and beg me to stop crying. Gradually he would start to care less, until one day my tears would come to mean nothing to him. It's called desensitization.

We would fall out of love, and he would disappear in my life.

"You look bored."

I was lost in my misery the next day, sitting by the pool, when a voice interrupted me. I tore my gaze away from Sean's last message (sent five hours ago, if you must know).

A guy with olive complexion and green eyes smiled at me coolly. He was attractive, I'd give him that, although not quite as much as Sean. "Do you want to go find the best tiramisu in St. Bart's?" he asked.

I frowned. "I have a boyfriend."

"What has that got to do with anything?" He sat himself down on the lounge chair next to me and crossed his legs, with an ease that suggested he believed he could come, see and conquer like Julius Caesar.

He had no idea who he was dealing with. If this had been back in my single days, I would've flirted with him until he blushed. I ran my eyes from his tanned face down to the navy polo shirt then to the penny loafers he was wearing. I even spotted a Patek Philippe around his wrist.

Rich and pushy. Those were two irrelevant traits my boyfriend lacked, but precisely because of that, I felt a familiar sense of excitement rising up, like Aladdin's genie from the bottle. The blue genie nudged me with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrows, saying, Look. Someone different.

He could turn out to be interesting, I decided, and I could smell the invigorating scent of adventure. Not to mention I loved good Italian dessert.

But I wanted to be good now, for Sean.

"My boyfriend is just superbly wonderful, that's all." I sounded like a five-year-old bragging about how their dad was the strongest man in the world.

He didn't give up. "He's not with you right now, and I bet he doesn't know about the best tiramisu in St. Bart's."

Sean probably didn't even know what tiramisu was. He'd probably refer to it as some spongy chocolate cake.

"I don't want to go, okay? Leave me alone," I snapped.

He got it, finally. The guy walked off in a huff.

I unlocked my cellphone screen. "My dear darling boyfriend I really miss you and I need you so much." I texted Sean but he didn't answer me. Even my text wasn't funny anymore. I sounded desperate.

Whiny, even.

I went back to my hotel room alone. My brothers were both out probably banging whatever they caught sight of, and my parents were off doing couples yoga. I actually thought hanging out with green-eyed boy would be sort of fun, if not it would at least be a good distraction. I wouldn't consider it, however, because I had to be a good girlfriend.

I felt proud of myself, I really did, but fifteen minutes later I was crying into the pillow.

Everyone thought I was living in a grand palace, and in it I had everything I needed. I had the perfect guy and I was so sure he was everything I dreamed of, but right now I felt like I was standing on the balcony of my golden palace, staring down. I wanted to escape to the field outside and roll around in the mud and the rain.

Somewhere along the line, I stopped thinking about what I was getting from Sean. All I could focus on was what I had to give up.

I was on vacation in a fabulous resort, wearing string bikini and lounging by the poolside, yet I freaked out because a cute guy talked to me. That was when I finally understood the worst thing a girl could lose in a relationship.

It was not a Kelly bag, not her reputation, not her guy friends, and certainly not virginity-

It was herself.

In order to love Sean, I had lost myself.

***

My mom came in my room later after she and my dad had dinner by themselves. They were always so romantic like that, not getting tired of each other. I wished someday when I had three kids, I'd still place my partner at number one, although speaking from the child's point of view it sucked sometimes.

"How's your evening?" She stretched her legs on my bed. Hanging out with my mom was a bit like having a sleepover with a best friend. It was full of girly fun, gossip, fashion tips and no lecture.

"It was okay. How's dinner?"

She was smiling as she recounted every stupid thing my dad said. He honestly wasn't that funny, but she adored the man along with his lame sense of humor.

"Mom, how do you know dad is the one?" I blurted.

She was completely unfazed by my question. "I still don't know, really. A part of me is still waiting to be swept off my feet by an Italian man on a Vespa."

I chuckled. "Seriously! You married at 22! Surely you were hit by true love and it made you want to settle down."

"Have you seen the rest of the guys I used to hang out with? I was left with very limited choices. And to be honest, I was hit by Edward," she confessed and grinned. "We got really drunk one night and...I'm sorry, am I setting a really bad example for my teenage daughter?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, I'm serious."

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? I thought you had an amazing time with Sean in New York."

"We did, and that's why it's so hard right now."

Her smile faded and her eyes turned soft. "Tell me all about it."

"It's a lot of things." I sighed and told her everything, how I loved him, how I hated myself, how we fought all the time but promptly made up afterwards, and about what happened by the pool. Mostly I spoke of how I couldn't be sure of anything anymore. "But Sean is a really good catch, right? You and dad like him. He's the top in our class and he plays varsity basketball. He's really good-looking and he even has cool parents and cool friends."

"You sound like you're writing his resume," she commented. "Surely you have more personal things to analyze on."

"He has a noble heart. It's like, there's nothing dirty or indecent about him. He's just really perfect."

"I seriously doubt teenage boy and not dirty belong in the same sentence."

"Mom!"

"Okay, I mean, no one's perfect," my mom said with an amused smile.

"He's as close as anyone can get. I'm never going to do better than that."

"Sweetheart, sometimes the best isn't necessary the best choice," she said gently. "All you need to know is if you're happy with him."

"I am...I think. I don't know." I let out a long breath. "I love him so much, but I'm starting to wonder if love is the only thing that matters in a relationship."

She patted the back of my hand. "I can't tell you what to do, but if you need some time by yourself to clear your head, then do it. 17 is way too early to decide if you've met the one anyway. You're still allowed to make mistakes."

I nodded.

"I didn't know if your dad was the one when I met him," she said, "but gradually he did become it. It's not because he's the best guy I've ever met, but because of everything we went through together, all the memories. Those are the things that make him irreplaceable, you know? After all, we did raise three little rascals together, and none of them bats an eyelash when spending our money. We have to bond through battling our common enemies."

"I get it now. I'll talk to Sean when I get back." Just when she began to nod in approval, I grinned. "I'll tell him apparently the only way to solve our problems is to have a baby together."

My mom kicked me and I laughed. "Kidding! You won't be a grandma just yet!"

"So is the wedding off temporarily? I'll ask your dad to call the printing company tomorrow and ask them to hold the invitations."

I giggled. "Thanks, mom. That would be really helpful."

"I know what can cheer you up." She sat up. "I actually do know where to find the best tiramisu in St. Bart's. And it's still open. Want to have a mother-daughter date?"

I smiled the most genuine smile all day.

***

When we got back I went to see Sean at his house. It was the end of the vacation, and we were planning on discussing our history presentation for the last time. It was, however, the last thing on either of our minds.

I used to think Sean was brooding before we got together. I had marveled at how approachable he looked when he finally smiled, with his beautiful blue eyes crinkling up at the edges. It had made me think of cracking open an ice door to find a garden of blooming hydrangeas.

Now he smiled at me, but for the first time in a long time, I felt as if I was staring at him through thick ice. He seemed out of reach and I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Hey, so, I brought you these to look at," I said. I held out a thick stack of photos we had taken in New York. Sean really wasted a lot of storage space shooting meaningless stuff, but I printed them all out anyway.

We sat down on the floor with our backs against his bed and went through all the photos together. I had managed to look horrendous in most of them, especially when I laughed with my mouth opened too wide. It would be safe to presume I wouldn't have a thriving career in modeling.

"That's so unfair. I took good photos of you, but you caught me at my worst moments!" I swatted him on the shoulder. "It's like you were a paparazzi out to get me."

"You're really cute," he protested. He stopped when he came across a photo of me in St. Bart's, standing on the beach. "That looks amazing. Was it fun there?"

"Not really. You know how miserable I was," I said. "Sorry for shouting at you so much."

He smiled wryly. "That's alright. I can't sleep without you shouting at me before bed anyway."

Sean wasn't the kind of person to make a big deal out of it, but I knew I must have made his vacation pretty terrible. Everybody has a limit. How long could he put up with me, really?

Going to New York had been magical, but it disintegrated and faded in the light of reality.

"Look, something happened in St. Bart's." I wasn't planning on saying anything, but the moment I opened my mouth words tumbled out freely, the way clothes spewed out of my closet every time I opened the door. I started pouring out about green-eyed boy, and Sean looked at me in dread, as if waiting for me to announce I was infected with an STD.

"And then?"

"And then I told him I had a wonderful boyfriend, then I went back to the hotel room and wept."

Sean was too smart to not get it at once. "Well, sounds like your wonderful boyfriend isn't so wonderful if the idea of tiramisu made you cry."

We were both quiet for a considerable length of time, measuring the weight of this sentence and trying to pinpoint what it meant, until I broke the silence. "I'm not sure..." My voice was small, full of uncertainty, like being called on in class for the answer of a math problem. "I'm not sure I want to do this anymore. Maybe I should stop before I do something crazy and stupid to hurt you."

"Like what you're doing right now." He was strangely calm, like he wasn't even surprised.

"I can see us going downhill, and...I'd rather end early than badly. I can't bear the idea of us ending badly," I said, my voice catching. "We can't make it pass college."

"You have no faith." He sounded like he was just rehearsing a line.

"I want to be a better person for you, more sensible and mature...I want to be emotionally stable like you...but it's really hard for me...it's making me unhappy, and it's making you unhappy too. We met too early...right now we're wrong for each other. I'm too young, too stupid and I'm going to wreck this...I need time to grow into the kind of person that deserves you." By then I was crying and rambling, unable to stop either, not even sure I was making sense. "You are perfect and I love you, but...but I'm not ready for perfection."

He took a long moment before he answered. "I'm not perfect. It's hard to hear you keep saying that because I can't even argue back. I don't know what I can do to fix it."

"There's nothing to fix. You really are great the way you are, but I'm not ready to handle this. You're like...a Kelly bag."

I had no idea why I said that, and Sean had no idea what that was. As I started to elaborate on the idea, it became clearer that was exactly what he was.

Something exquisite, but not for me to own. At least not now.

"I got one as a birthday present when I was sixteen. It was something I had dreamed about forever, and I thought it was all I ever wanted. I wanted to brag to all my friends, take a million selfies with it and never leave home without it. But a while later, I realized I couldn't handle this bag. It was too rare, too expensive. I worried excessively about getting it dirty and making a dent, not to mention people judged me quickly for being a spoiled brat." I felt embarrassed telling him such a shallow story, but I went on. "I finally had to sell it online, and when I found out I sold to an old lady with hideous shoes and a mustache, it broke my heart, but I know it's the right thing to do. There's nothing wrong with the Kelly bag. I just wasn't ready for it."

"Well, I'm not sure if I should be flattered that you think I'm a Kelly of all boyfriends, or be offended that you think I'll wind up on the arms of an old lady with a mustache," Sean said, "but I think I get it. Kind of. Right now you want several different bags to go with different outfits?"

"I think I should go bag-less for a while until I figure out myself."

He nodded. Even in the middle of such a serious talk, I marveled over the fact that we could communicate like this. Sean hadn't lost his sense of humor, and he was as patient and understanding as always.

"Can you give me some time?" I asked. I knew I was being selfish. "I still love you. I just need some time apart to clear my head."

"How much time?"

"I don't know. A short break."

He shook his head. "If you love someone you don't keep them waiting. If you don't want me now, you'll lose me."

"I just want a break, not a definite break up."

"That's exactly the same to me," he said firmly, just as I expected. Sean liked clear-cut answers. It was either a serious relationship or nothing.

My tears welled up again. I knew it would hurt but I didn't know it'd hurt so instantly, like my insides turned over. I wanted to puke. It was like Spiderman forced to choose between saving a cable car full of children or Mary Jane; it was going to hurt either way.

For a while I couldn't talk. I couldn't be with him but I couldn't be apart from him, either, and it was impossible to decide. But then I thought of the alternative, that we learned to resent each other, or worse, that we grew apart until the other person meant nothing.

"I guess we're breaking up," I choked out in between sobs.

"Are you sure, Flora?" he asked, almost serenely. "I don't want to break up, but once you decide I won't say anything more to change your mind."

I wasn't sure at all. I felt like I was making a huge mistake, but after an eternity I nodded.

"I don't want to get caught in a make-up break-up cycle," Sean said. "This is it."

I nodded again.

"Okay," he said. "If that's your decision, then I accept."

He was utterly composed throughout the conversation, like we were just discussing what we'd have for dinner and he was okay with anything. There was no bargaining. He just agreed.

We sat in silence, and then he picked up the photos I brought over again. This time he looked at them with a slower pace, going over them one by one without saying a word. I was watching him, half imagining him throwing those in my face.

His head was lowered, but suddenly I saw a teardrop roll down his perfect face.

I froze. For a second I was unable to react. I had never seen Sean even close to tears before. He was always so poised, so in control of his emotions.

In that fleeting second I thought he had never looked nobler.

He was just trying to make it easier for me.