You called me last night. You called to tell me you miss me. And you're sorry. You say you want me back, because you never want to be without me. All that sappy love stuff girls always eat up. Not this time. I just can't forgive you ths time. Do you remember what you did to me? Do you remember how bad you hurt me?

It was our one year anniversary. You said you had the biggest surprise for me that night, and I was so excited. You were always such a romantic. Taking me to fancy restaurants, buying me flowers and chocolates, even if you didn't have a reason to. We'd been fighting recently, but I ket forgiving you, and we'd make up. That night was going to be the night where we realized it was all foolish, and we truly loved each other.

I walked out of school all giddy, with a spring in my step. I was glowing. I could feel it. You had football practice, so we weren't meeting until later. As I walked into the parking lot, I began my search for my averaged sized, black chevy truck. I didn't find it, but do you remember what I did find? You. Standing, facing the side of your car. I didn't think much of it, until I looked closer. And saw a girl, facing you, pressed up against the door of your car. Again, I looked closer.

And saw you kissing her. Saw you kissing my best friend. Some best friend, right? Oh, and an even better boyfriend. One of your buddies tapped you on the shoulder, but you tried to shoo him away. He did it again, and said something that I couldn't make out. But I knew what he had told you, as soon as you became as still as a board, and turned your head straight towards me. The girl I used to call my best friend looked absolutely terrified. So did you, but you tried to play it off with a quick smile.

"Hey, baby," you said. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gone home already." I started discreetly searching for my truck again, and instantly found it.

As I started walking towards it, I said, "I forgot a book in my locker so I had to go back and get it, and then I asked a teacher for some help with something. I thought you had football practice? Or is that just what you told me so you could make out with this slut?"

"Libby, wait! Let me explain!" I didn't stop. I didn't think you deserved it. I just kept walking until I reached my truck, then I drove home as quickly as I possibly could, barely avoiding a break down on the highway. I ran into my house with tears streaming down my face.

You called me about ten times that night. You stopped by, and left a dozen roses on my doorstep. I threw them away. It's been three weeks since that day. You called me last night. I'll never forgive you.