"I still can't believe this," Sandra repeated for the fifth time that night. I expected her to say something catty or just plain mean, but she seemed to be lost in perpetual shock. "I can not believe this. You broke up with him over a random tiramisu guy?"

I sighed from my bed. "You just don't get it."

We had already gone through the bawling (me) and the comforting (mostly Carmen), and now the interrogation phase started. To be honest I questioned the decision myself, profoundly and constantly, and after seeing the reaction from my friends, the feeling of having done something ridiculously wrong became stronger than ever.

It was like comparing answers to an exam; I wasn't entirely sure I put down the correct choice in the first place, and now everyone was telling me it was D instead of B.

Ever since the breakup, I wore the PJ's Sean gave me and cried myself to sleep every night, thinking of him till it felt like I was ripped apart. Missing someone was the scariest feeling--

"I think that guy sounds like a creep and you made a humongous mistake." Sandra propped a pillow against her back before reaching out for more ice cream. "I'll just go ahead and say what everyone's thinking. You're going to regret this."

"I don't really understand either," Carmen said softly. "I thought you guys loved each other?"

"Love can't solve every problem."

Sandra snuck a quick glance at Carmen. "Well, unless he's 42 and married, I don't see what the problem is."

At this point Janet interjected and told me she understood, but Sandra didn't let her finish before starting again with her rants. It was like I personally offended her by breaking up with a guy she deemed merely tolerable before.

"I think the whole incompatibility issue is bullshit," she said. "It's not like he slaps you every time you mention the word Michelin. Besides, he's just asking you to refrain from locking yourself in a room with Raymond Corbett, a guy with questionable morals and intentions, I might add, and that's completely reasonable."

"Sandy, can you just tell me you support me?" I pursed my lips. "I feel bad enough as it is. I thought you didn't like me with Sean."

Her eyebrows shot up. "I never said that! I said you were obsessed with him. It's like being addicted to social media or Xbox. I suggested that you learn to be more in control and manage your time better, but you went ahead and deleted every account! Extreme much?"

"Deleting is actually very effective," Janet said. "I want them to stay together too, but right now Flora's got to put herself first."

"True love survives a little time apart, right?" Carmen said, her face wistful but her tone skeptical, like convincing a child of Santa's existence. "Maybe you're better off alone for the time being, and in the future you can find a way to be together again. I heard this saying that sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly."

"Pfft. Do you honestly believe that?" Sandra's shiny blonde head shook like a rattlesnake. "You can always reactivate an account, but once you lost a person, you lost them for good."

"Maybe he'll want to marry me if we're both still single at 28," I said. My lame attempt of a joke didn't even amuse myself.

Sandra looked at me gravely, like she was my fairy godmother and had just caught me wearing rags for a ball. "Sean's not even going to wait till prom, honey, and after he goes to college, it's a lost cause, even if MIT isn't exactly a modeling agency. Guys like him don't stay single for long. He'll meet someone who's simple and easy to handle, like...pizza, and when he marries pizza girl someday, you'll whine about why he doesn't appreciate a French cuisine type of girl such as yourself."

She snatched my phone from the bedside table, and instead of deleting my texts, she thrust it in my hand. "Call him! Tell him you miss him and you want him back. Recycling is good for the environment."

What happened to dignity, pride, playing it cool and owning the title dumper? Sandra's breakup advice had always been something along the lines of laugh extra hard to show you're doing great without him or how do you like your college rebound guy, but now she was asking me to beg?

Not that I wasn't tempted to, but I knew it would be unfair to Sean.

"Flora, you should just leave him in peace," Janet said with a hint of warning in her tone.

I nodded. I already knew Sean wasn't going to pick up the phone.

You know sometimes people have to have their legs amputated before the germs or whatever spread through the whole body? I knew an amputation would hurt, but I chose it because it was better than gradually perishing. What I didn't expect was how easily it could backfire.

I had clearly underestimated Sean's determination about staying friends. We had become friends in the broadest, most meaningless sense, the most indifferent kind, the exact opposite of love and what we were.

He never returned any of my texts. When I ambushed him at his locker, he gave me those forced smiles he saved for irrelevant girls who hit on him. Every time I tried to talk to him, he would answer politely and report on impersonal things like his basketball game scores. He was composed and distant like a news anchorman.

There was nothing special left between us anymore.

We were now familiar strangers. And that, to be written off entirely from his life, hurt more than anything.

My friends were supportive even though they all thought it was a pity to let him go. They talked about Sean like he was a precious art piece at Sotheby's and someone outbid me; he seemed that much greater now that he turned from the one to the one that got away. As to his friends, whenever I passed their table at lunch, I felt a wave of hostility. It was most certainly imaginary, but it would be fair to say I'd never feel comfortable to pull out a chair again and join them.

Raymond called one morning during winter break. We never talked about the fact that we could hang out alone again. He waltzed right back in my life like he never left. "You need something fun to cheer you up," he said. "I'll take you out."

Half an hour later he showed up at my door, and we insanely embarked on an out of state trip to Gatorland. Raymond's idea of fun was gliding down the infamous Screaming Gator Zip Line where we soared over alligators and crocodiles at top speed.

"Your problem is nothing a little dose of reptiles can't fix," he said.

Who needed chocolate ice cream to produce endorphins when we could recruit a full on adrenaline rush, right? The approach was drastic but it worked. As our carnivore friends snapped their teeth affectionately at our feet, I felt spontaneous and liberated, like my old self.

Carrie Bradshaw once said in an episode of Sex and the City, "After a break-up, certain street, locations, even times of day are off-limits. The city becomes a deserted battlefield, loaded with emotional landmines. You have to be very careful where you step or you could be blown to pieces."

She was right. It was weird how I used to think we only stayed in, but now without Sean, it appeared that memories were scattered throughout the city. I'd stumble upon one of those carelessly and break down. This was why I made Raymond promise that we would steer clear of anywhere that might remind me of Sean, and he delivered.

What I didn't know was that emotional landmines were sneaky little things that could blow up in your face unexpectedly, no matter how hard you tried to avoid them.

I was getting out of my harness when I heard Sean's voice in my head. Baby, I just want to date you. I can do without the crocodiles unless it's a purse you're carrying.

And just like that I was blown to pieces. The pain was overwhelming, and I literally had to lean against the wall to steady myself. Raymond and I were planning on checking into a twin room and watching TV all night, but he took one look at me and made his trademark disgruntled noise.

"You're not going to cry, are you? I'm really bad at comforting people."

"No." I turned my face away slightly.

"Good." He nodded. "I bet you look ugly when you cry."

I'd be naïve if I expected him to say something nice, since I was one of the few people he felt comfortable showing his true colors in front of, but I automatically thought of how flustered Sean would be in the same situation and felt even worse.

"I really miss him," I said in a small voice.

"Look," Raymond said. "We can go back right now if you want."

"But we just got here."

I thought he'd be annoyed. He had the whole two days planned, and here I was, acting like I was auditioning for a sob-fest movie. But he only shrugged.

"I don't mind," he said. "The whole point of coming here is to get your mind off Mr. King, but now I see it's not gonna happen. You can't get any more fun than me and a bunch of crocodiles, but fun is overrated anyway. Let's go."

There were no bookable flights for the day so we hopped on a bus and took forever to get home. It was crowded and the seats too stiff, but at least it was heading towards the right direction. Raymond didn't complain much. He made cruel observations about the man sitting in front and his smelly feet, told me all the jokes he could think of, and even though he somehow wasn't as hilarious as I remembered, I appreciated the effort.

"Why are you so nice to me?" It was a long ride so I asked. "Are you just pretending to be my friend so you can swish in and catch me at a vulnerable moment?"

He snorted. He was eating a bag of chips and getting crumbs all over himself. I could honestly say I didn't feel the least bit of sexual tension between us, like ever, but I wanted to make sure.

"I enjoy the company of people with deluded self-confidence," he said. "It's a good form of exercise for my brain."

"Seriously. I'd feel so betrayed if you had a secret crush on me."

"I don't, girlfriend. It's my policy not to make a pass at friends who can pay for plane tickets. You know what they say, if you sleep with everyone, sooner or later you end up with no one to go to Gatorland with."

"It makes me feel so much better that you're just here for my money."

He stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth. "Besides, if I came on to you, Sandra would never give me a chance."

"What? You like Sandra? My Sandy?"

He chewed noisily. "That's a big part of the reason I want to be prom king, because I get to dance with the queen. Yup, I'm romantic like that."

My fingers twitched. I wanted to text Sandra so badly right now, but as a good spy I needed to gather as much information as I could. "You do know that Sandy's in a steady relationship and she really...dislikes you."

"The steady relationship part I'm not worried about. They'll fall apart on their own," he said with his own supply of deluded self-confidence. "As to her hating me...does she mention it a lot?"

"Like every chance she gets."

A lopsided grin spread across his face. "Then it's working."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not like those immature boys in middle school who picks on girls they like, are you?"

"Sandra is just like middle school girls. She acts tough, but deep down she wants approval just like everyone else. Her lack of confidence makes her bitchy," he said. If Sandra ever heard this, she'd sentence him to be run over by a bus immediately. "She wants people to be intimidated, yet here I am, someone who openly challenges her, and she can't stop thinking about me."

I burst out laughing. "Good luck there. When you fail miserably, I'll pay for Gatorland again."

The bus stopped, and the man with smelly feet stood up to get off. Raymond hopped out of his seat to help carry down his luggage. He even started a short conversation about the weather and wished him a pleasant journey, and I almost expected him to say thank you for traveling with us. He deserved a tip for his performance.

When Raymond sat back down, he rolled his eyes and whispered he could finally inhale again.

Sean would never make fun of other people's feet, I thought. He would never smile at someone and make comparisons about chicken poo a second later. He'd be minding his own business (and looking absolutely gorgeous doing so).

I loved that about him, but I realized at the same time that he wouldn't offer to help either. His aloofness was a merit but also a flaw. While Raymond may be an insincere Mr. Nice Guy, he did make the man's day a little brighter. He acted kind and spread positivity. I never thought of it that way before, but it was actually more mature than fake of him to do so.

Sean had also misjudged my friendship with Raymond, who was a friend, a good one, and nothing more than that. He cared about me and wasn't just lurking around so he could get in my pants. Maybe we should set some boundaries once I got in a relationship, but it wasn't fair to just tell him to suck it up and swallow his hurt feelings.

This was the first time I dared consider that Sean wasn't perfect and he wasn't always right. I thought of how I convinced myself that I needed to change and how I instantly backed away from a fight because I wanted his love too much. I was afraid to argue with him on the things that mattered, but pestered him unnecessarily about things that didn't. I shied away from important issues but picked on him about the food he liked and the frequency of his texts.

That was what I did wrong. That was why we didn't work.

Newton's third law of motion is that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I pushed too hard, and consequently it pushed us apart. Like all things in life, there should be a balance and just the right amount. Loving him the wrong way and abusing his love for me ultimately led to our downfall.

Raymond's mouth was still opening and closing as I had my epiphany. "I figured it out, finally," I said.

"Figured what out?" He shook the bag of chips in front of me.

"How to save our relationship," I said. "I'm going to see Sean."

He nodded, calm and matter-of-factly, like he was just waiting for me to say it. "Don't worry, I bet he wants to see you too," he said. "Especially if you dress up like a sexy nurse to freeze his brain, or whatever he's into."

"Madame Curie, I suppose. Wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck. I'll just congratulate you when you get back together, even though it's going to suck for me after that happens."

"It's going to be different this time," I promised, and I felt hopeful. I reached over to grab some chips from the bag. "Hey, maybe we can all hang out together someday. You, me, Sean and Sandy."

He laughed. "I wouldn't count on it, but that's certainly something to look forward to. Now go get him."

If my life were made into a movie, this would be the part where I stood up and deliver a speech that moved the whole bus, the driver would pull up right outside Sean's house and all the passengers would root for me. We would end up kissing in front of everyone, spinning and in slow motion, of course, and they would clap and cheer despite my awful mess of hair and makeup.

That didn't happen, so I had to run all the way to his house myself. My hair was all over the place though; that part was just like in the movies.

Sean froze upon answering the door.

His eyes were pale and tired. They were a sad lake wrapped with a veil of fog. There was nothing physically different about him, but the air of melancholy around him made me want to hug him immediately.

"Flora," he said.

"I made a mistake." I was panting hard, but I got the words out. "We shouldn't have broken up."

At first he didn't answer, then he rubbed his palm over his eyes. "I asked you if you were sure."

"Yes, but it was a rash decision. I realized something now, and I know how we can fix this-"

"It wasn't a rash decision," he interrupted me for the only time I could remember, when it had always been me who did the interrupting. It was with total composure, however, like it was due to disinterest instead of impatience. "I know you did some serious contemplating before you brought it up, and to be honest I anticipated it coming. Your coming here now is a rash decision."

"No...no...I'm sorry. Tell me it's not too late. I know you still love me too."

"I love you." He was staring at the ground when he said it, but I didn't miss the fleck of pain in his eyes. "But Flora, I told you. I can't keep doing the make-up break-up thing. You broke my heart for too many times already."

It wasn't an accusation, just a statement, which made it that much worse. I could tell I shattered his faith in us. I hurt him more than I imagined, to the point of being irreparable.

I started to cry. Bad negotiations skills, I knew. But I couldn't help it.

I had a speech prepared that would move him if only he could hear it. I wanted to tell him that we came too far to give up like this. I'd tell him that things would get better, that I learned some very important lessons while being apart from him, and that I'd wait for him when we went to college. We'd be apart physically but we'd grow closer, and every time we saw each other it'd be better than the last. He could take me to the burger joint he found in Boston, if he promised to let me pay for dinner at Per Se when he came to NYC to visit.

We would get better at this, because we were a great pair, the best partners, and a perfect match. He said so himself. With his intelligence and my creativity, we could solve anything.

I even had the words from A Tale of Two Cities memorized, the only book we read together. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us...

It's a lot like being away from each other, don't you think, Sean?

If only I could get the words out. My script fell apart and rose up into sobs. I couldn't say anything intelligent, and it only reminded him of what it was like when we were together.

"Please, Flora, don't do this to me," Sean pleaded as he averted my tears.

"Give us a chance," I choked out. "We can't end like this."

I wanted a Hollywood style cliché ending, but this was turning out to be the type of pretentious French film Sandra watched. The sole purpose was to rip your heart out.

He lifted his gaze finally and looked at me, then he gave me a small, sad smile. I could see from his face that nothing I said would change his mind again.

"I'm sorry."

The sound of the door clicking shut was soft, but there was a sense of finality to it that was hard to ignore. I collapsed on his porch and cried until I accepted that I would never get him back again.

***

Carmen poured two glasses of iced tea and slid one across the counter. She nodded at the light red liquid encouragingly, as if a sweet beverage solved all problems.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Not really." I stabbed at the bottom of the glass with my straw, where a clump of sugar had yet to disintegrate. "It feels so pointless. I can't believe we'll never go to Paris together or argue about who's going to take out the trash."