HIM by Brittney Cohen-Schlesinger Page B

things were so complicated back then.”
    Tory snorted.  “Yeah, right.  We didn’t know what hardships were until college and failed relationships came around.”  Since Tory didn’t go to the same college I went to, if her last class went until 12:30 PM, by the time the clock struck 12:34, she was already in a taxi on her way to see me.  She would spend the rest of the day at my house or I would come see her at her dorm.  My schedule resembled hers the best it could.
    I could have gone to NYU if I wanted to; I was accepted.  It’s just that I didn’t have the funding I needed to go – which was a lot.  Tory’s parents offered to help me out but I declined, reminding them they’d done enough for me over the years.  Not to mention the things I’d gotten from them now.
    It’s a long list.
                  “It’s sort of disappointing though.  I wish we still had that innocence – not knowing what heartache or hard work was.  Now it’s just . . . out of control,” I said, not only recalling my relationship with him but the workload college supplied us with.  I was glad it was summer break.
                  “Tell me about it.”
    We sat there, reading over past notes to each other and reminiscing when Tory asked me how my date with Jensen went the night before.
                  “It was very sweet,” I answered, blushing.
                  “Oh.  My.  Gosh .”  Tory sat up straight and placed the notes back into a light pink, frilly box she’d hand-decorated herself when she was in her crafty stage a few years back.  “Tell me all about it.”  She was expecting something mushy and romantic.  Although I wanted to tell her about my experience I didn’t think this was the most appropriate time to be bringing up my giddy situation when Tory was practically in a mourning state with her own relationship.
                  “Tory, are you sure you want to talk about this right now?”
                  She glared at me.  “Tell me or I’ll give you a paper cut!” she threatened, grabbing a note from the box, holding it an inch away from my big toe.  “Talk.  Or the little piggy turns to bacon.”
                  I snickered and rolled my eyes.  “It wasn’t what we did that was so great…it was him .  Everything about him was just so… unreal .”
    Tory was beaming.  I laughed from her reaction.
    “Ava, I’m just so glad you’re moving on.”  She shared a questioning look.  “You are moving on, aren’t you?”
    Am I?
                  “I think I am?” I cautioned.  Was I really willing to give him up?  After everything we’d been through – the good and the bad?  Okay, well towards the end, mostly bad.  But some part of me still loved him.  And would always love him.  No matter how much he scarred me emotionally and physically . . . for life.  “That’s the plan.”
                  “I’m so proud of you!”  She flung herself at me, hugging me wildly until I had to push her off.  “And it’s all thanks to me !”  A big smile appeared from ear to ear.  For a long while we sat there, laughing and talking about Jensen.
                  “Hey Tory, how come up until now you never mentioned Jensen?” I asked, curious as to why my best friend hid the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on from me.
                  “He never really came up,” she admitted, shrugging.
    She explained to me that every summer, excluding post-high school graduation, she went to a co-ed sleep away camp in Florida; very wealthy children attended.  I remembered all those summers she left to attend the camp.  We went through about eighty-five post cards per summer because we wrote so much.  I was completely shocked that in none of the letters did she ever mention Jensen Marx; because that’s where she had met him.  She continued to explain how