I listened, my heart pounding in my chest. I was still drawn to him, still captivated by his presence. But I was different now. I was stronger, more confident. I knew what I wanted, and I wasn't afraid to say it.

We talked for hours, catching up on lost time. He told me about his life, about the struggles and the triumphs. He told me about Rachel, about how it hadn't worked out, and how he'd often thought about me.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality began to set in. Ethan was going back to college, and I was going to community college. We were going to be apart, and I was terrified. What if he forgot about me? What if he met someone else?

It wasn't until I met him again, years later, that I realized how much I had grown. I was 25, and he was 31. We met at a coffee shop, and I barely recognized him. He was more rugged, more weathered, but his eyes still sparkled with kindness.

Ethan, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what he wanted. He was clear about his feelings, and he wasn't afraid to show me affection. He'd hold my hand, look into my eyes, and tell me how much he cared about me. I was swept up in the romance of it all, and I couldn't help but feel like I was the luckiest person alive.

As we parted ways, he took my hand, looked into my eyes, and told me that he still loved me. I smiled, feeling a sense of closure, feeling like I was finally home.