Everyone told me we had a “thing” but he never seemed to give a straight answer whenever I asked.
We texted all the time. I sat on his lap and watched Deadpool in a secluded shed once. We showed up to school in matching brick-red hoodies. Then he’d slyly rest his hand on my thigh all throughout class.
I don’t remember when or how our “thing” fizzled out.
One day he stopped talking to me in public and eventually stopped texting me altogether. A week later, he was in a “real” relationship — very public and definitely more than just a “thing.”