He Never Chose Me Until I Stopped Waiting

From the back cover

After coming home from my exchange program, the trivia board I drew at the party was Francis Matthews.

Everyone jeered and laughed as they asked me:

"Beryl Swanson, tell us Francis's height, weight, hobbies... measurements... and how long he lasts?"

I answered every one, exactly right.

Six-one, one hundred fifty-nine pounds, basketball, eight inches, and how long he lasts is...

I paused, then finished it calmly: "Eighty-six minutes."

Fifty questions about Francis. I got a perfect score.

Kathleen Barnes propped her chin on her hand. "Don't tell me you're actually Francis's girlfriend?"

Someone jumped in at once:

"Probably, right? Wasn't she the one who got jealous over the study-abroad placement in England, and stormed off to do two years of exchange out of spite?"

"And back then, that deciding vote? Francis cast it for Kathleen!"

"Chased him for five years, and in the end couldn't even earn a title!"

Francis leaned back into the couch, his tone flat. "No. Just neighbors."

I took a light sip of my juice. "And never will be, either."

Francis suddenly smiled, his voice sneering:

"What, done chasing?"

I looked at him, and to my surprise, I didn't hurt at all.

Because it hit me all at once that I hadn't lost to anyone.

I had simply, finally, stopped loving Francis.