Emily Wibberley - With and Without You

Always Never Yours

If Im Being Honest

Time of Our Lives

Whats Not to Love

I WANT TO BREAK UP.

The words feel weird passing my lips. I cant quite believe them even though Im the one saying them. Maybe theres just no way to prepare for the end of stories like ours.

The whole thing is made weirder by the fact Im floating in a swimming pool, sheltering from the hundred-degree Phoenix sun. On days like this, I never know where the droplets of chlorinated water on my shoulders end and where my sweat starts. Right now, though, Im pretty sure Im mostly sweat. Not just from the heat, either.

Patrick, I continue before I lose my courage. I have a whole speech planned out, and Im determined to give it. You know how much you mean to me, I go on, working hard to keep my expression contrite yet respectful. Youve honestly been the best boyfriend

From across the pool, he interrupts me. And youve been the best girlfriend. Hes treading water in the deep end, sweat beading on the brown skin of his brow.

I grimace. Thanks, I say through my teeth. Its the worst kind of thank you. Not grateful, just necessary. But what Im trying to say is that weve been together for nearly three years. Im just wondering if... maybe were too young for this kind of commitment. I hear my voice grow stronger by the end of the sentence, which is good. Its the only thing making this bearable, really. I believe what Im saying.

Siena, youre my world, he protests. Youre my everything. You have been since we were fifteen.

My mouth flattens. Some stinging combination of sunscreen and water has slipped into my eye, and I rub it, grateful for the moment to regroup. Thats my point, though. Its been almost three years. Theres more I dont say. We havent even said I love you. We havent had sex. We discussed early in our relationship wanting to wait for the right time. Which... somewhere in these three years, shouldnt I have felt like it was the right time? Do you want to graduate high school having only dated me? I ask.

His reply is immediate. Yes! I literally only want to date you! He looks genuinely confused by my question. Then his expression clouds over. Wait, who else do you want to date?

Ive been bobbing lightly on my toes in the pool, but when I sink down, I realize Ive drifted into the five-foot section. Im only five foot six, and I find the water rising past my mouth. Ive lost my footing, conversationally and literally.

Paddling into shallower water, I force myself to remain clear and calm. Nobody in particular, I say. I just feel like I need freedom. Not to date exactly, but to explore who I am.

I breathe out. Thats it. Thats what Ive been feeling this summer, in the months leading up to Patricks and my senior year. The truth is, if I examine who I am right now, Im not very interested in what I find. Im incredibly, painfully normal. I just exist, filling days with the routines of life. I go to school. I do Model UN. Im not very goodI never gavel. Besides, I joined the extracurricular for Patrick. On Saturday nights, I go to the movies or McDonalds with the same group of friends Ive had since elementary school.

Honestly, my most defining feature is my boyfriend. Patrick and I are The Couple. The couple our circle of classmates can only imagine as a unit. No one even says our names separately. Its only SienaandPatrick. PatrickandSiena. SienaandPatrick are in our prom limo. PatrickandSiena were the only people not drinking. Which isnt Patricks fault, not in the least. But it is our relationships fault. When everything I do involves or centers on him, its hard to figure out how to be my own person. I just know I cant stand it much longerIm desperate for something to change.

His voice cuts harshly into my thoughts, louder now. So, what? Were over? Three years, and youre throwing me away?

Im caught off guard. I flatten my feet on the rough concrete of the pool for some sense of stability. Its really more like two and a half years, I point out, then wince.

Like Im garbage? he goes on emphatically.

Patrick, youreyoure not garbage. I kick under the water to move closer, reaching out for him.

He pushes away from me, splashing dramatically. You were everything to me, he says. I guess I was nothing to you. I dont even know who you are anymore. The Siena I knew would never do this to me, he wails.

I open my mouth to reply, then

Instead, I sigh. Dropping the contrition from my expression, I frown. Okay, this isnt helpful, I inform him.

He stops flailing immediately, mirroring the change in me. Too much? he asks apologetically, his expression completely changed.

Way too much, I confirm. You have to be realistic, Joe. Patrick wont make a scene.

My best friend nods, considering my feedback like an actor hoping this performance wins him his Emmy. He will be heartbroken, though, Joe says matter-of-factly.

Ruefully, I realize hes not wrong. While Joe obviously doesnt know Patrick quite as well as I do, hes received more secondhand knowledge of Patrick Reynolds than anyone on the planet. I made a point of having the three of us hang out often so that Patrick never got jealous of Joe and Joe didnt feel like I ditched him when I got a boyfriend.

Joes my closest friend and has been since we were five years old. We met in kindergarten, our friendship founded on having the same Wonder Woman lunch box. These days, Joe is much cooler than me. I cant explain why were friends except to say we just get along. On paper, we dont have much in commonJoe is Black and wealthy, plays drums in the jazz band, and hangs out with athletes and drama kids instead of my friends in Model UNor MUN for short, as in, rhymes with fun. But it doesnt matter.