Sean Sean Sean Sean Sean Sean.

This was what went through my head every morning upon waking up. I wished I could wear him like the embroidery on my shirt collar or attach him to my hair like a bobby pin, so that he was with me at all times.

The first time we were together, we gave each other space. This time we neither needed it nor wanted it.

Sean had been ticking off all the boxes in good boyfriend material checklist. If it was a job, he would've been promoted to the top already. The only complaint I used to have was that he was too reserved about his feelings, but once he uttered the L word, nothing held him back. I could feel his love for me rapidly sprouting, and it was like snapping a fiber in a pair of pantyhose. You know how pantyhoses are. They are relatively sturdy to start with, but once they're torn, the rips grow and the holes expand until it becomes impossible to mend them.

I did a bit of self-evaluation and decided that I needed more practice in becoming a better girlfriend. I knew I loved him but it only made me insane and needy, and the weird part was the more I was with him the more I wanted him. Despite all the good in Sean, he was like a really bad habit that kept me demanding for more, like drugs. After the initial high wears off, next time the dose needs to be doubled.

An obsession was beginning to form. It was still vague now, but given enough time, water can cut through a rock and, as Sean said, mineral drips can build into a stalactite.

Sandra was the one who pointed it out first. We were hanging out one late afternoon when she piped up.

"Let's play a game," she said. "The person who mentions the name Sean first loses and has to buy everyone caramel macchiatos."

Carmen and Janet didn't comment, but they had this look on their faces that said, finally someone spoke up.

"I don't talk about him that much." I pouted. "Besides, I've been buying everyone drinks for the past three years."

"You talk about him more than a religious fanatic talks about God," Sandra said, and as if thinking that wasn't harsh enough, she added, "You're starting to get on my nerves."

I shut up but I fumed inside. What were best friends for if they couldn't be there when I felt the need to gush? Fine, lately this need was consuming me as a whole, but I had been very supportive whenever my friends talked about their significant others (or in Carmen's case, the lack thereof).

I sat in my room one night going through my shoe collection as Sandra's words attacked again. Now that I took a moment to consider it, perhaps they hadn't been gushing nonstop like I did. Then again, that's the rule of life. Less coverage time was warranted for less fabulous boyfriends.

Sean was gone for a basketball game after successfully peeling himself away from me, and as cheerleaders we only attended the home games. It was a week night, and as usual most of my girlfriends weren't allowed to stay out late. When a situation like this arose I usually called up someone like Raymond, who was as free as a cheetah in the savannah since his parents didn't care about his whereabouts.

But that was before Sean, of course.

I rearranged my closet and tried on a few items. Posted a new entry in my style blog. Learned a few new tricks about styling my hair off YouTube and did a braid crown that made me look like a medieval bride, then I loosen it and redid a side fishtail braid.

Better.

The phone rang just when I was about to shrivel up and die with boredom.

"Whatcha doin'?" Raymond sang into the phone.

"Braiding my hair and waiting for Sean."

He made an unattractive sound at the back of his throat which I deciphered as disapproval. "Let's hang out."

"I can't, Ray. I'm in a relationship, as you know."

He paused for a second before he spoke again, as if trying to process the information. "Yeah, I know. So?"

"Well, part of the deal of being in a relationship is that I can't hang out with whoever I wish," I said. Did it sound as absurd to him as to me? "What I mean is, I want to stay here and wait for Sean."

"How about tomorrow? I got hold of some real good stuff I wanna share with you."

By stuff he meant pot. I was tempted for a very brief second but I turned him down like the good girl I was. He suggested a few other time slots and finally came to the realization that when I said I can't, I meant I can't, ever.

"So, what, are you saying I can never hang out with you again?"

Was that disappointment tinged with hurt I detected? I felt bad. "Well, we can, but not like this. We can invite a few more people and meet at the mall."

"The mall?" He sounded horrified, as if the mall was a synonym of youth detention center. "A few more people? But I hate everybody."

I laughed. He was hilarious even when he was being serious.

He took a long time before answering. When he spoke again it was with the same resolution as a Protestant Christian who decided to convert to Eastern Orthodox. "I can invite Sean, if you want. I guess I can tolerate your boyfriend if that's what it takes."

Wow, he really wanted my company. To Raymond sharing pot was like amputating a limb unless he sincerely adored you, which didn't happen that often.

"That's nice of you to offer, but Sean can't smoke pot with us," I said. "It'll damage his valuable brain cells. Not all brain cells are created equal, as you know."

"If he's as smart as you implied, he should have a lot to spare," he said dryly.

"Actually Sean says being smart has more to do with the folds and grooves in the brain than the amount of brain cells," the words shot off my mouth before I could stop myself.

Raymond made his disgruntled sound again. "Flora, I get it you worship Sean like a cult, but you're really starting to annoy me with the way you keep quoting him."

Gosh he sounded like Sandra. I could hardly deal with one in my life, let alone two. I decided to tell him about the reason Sean and I broke up, just so he didn't feel like I was blowing him off for no reason.

He was shocked to hear it, to say the least. "What? I didn't hit on you!"

"You tried and he saw it, and now you're on the black list."

"B-But how's that even possible? I don't like you like that!" He even sounded a little offended, like I was insulting his taste.

"I'm telling you, it happened. There's a very valid reason why Sean doesn't want to hang out with you, and like seriously, can you blame him?"

I didn't expect it but he apologized. I told him I never even blamed him for it. "I can apologize to Sean, too," he said. "I really feel bad about the whole thing."

"No! He doesn't want me to tell you. You have to pretend you know nothing." Sean and his ego didn't want to allow Raymond the satisfaction of knowing he had the power to come between us.

"But I don't want him to hate me," Raymond said. It was amazing how he had no trouble hating everyone, but the idea of anyone-even someone who didn't matter much to him like Sean-not breaking out instantly in a happy dance when they thought of him was unbearable. He had this unexplainable urge to stay on everyone's good side.

I told him to forget it, and now Raymond was really fretting. "Well, I can't apologize to him, I can't invite him to hang out, so what does that leave us? Does that mean I can never see you again?"

Oh God. I was never in a relationship with Raymond, but now we were breaking up.

"We can say hi to each other at school, and I'll like every Facebook post you make." I tried to lighten the mood. "That's what friends are for anyway. To make you feel popular on social media."

He exhaled. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna hang up now. I need to go sit by my laptop to check if you liked any of my posts."

"Come on, you don't need to do that." I decided to make one last attempt of a lame joke. "You can check with your phone."

He grunted again and hung up. I let out a long breath, feeling extremely exhausted. I didn't even have enough energy to put back all the shoes I'd taken out of their boxes, so I left them in a pile on the floor. I almost tripped over my Roger Vivier in my haste to get to the doorbell when it rang.

Sean stood before me in a dark green hoodie and his backpack slung over one shoulder. It was like throwing open the door to a cathedral, where the organs were played and the Angels sang. I swore there was this halo surrounding him and fine, I worshiped him. So what?

It happens. People needed to accept that.

"Baby." He smiled.

"You look hot," I said. I always came up with shallow things to say about him even though he was much more than that. Deep down I knew I had hit jackpot finding him, like digging up a piece of giant Italian white Alba truffle thinking it was just some ordinary mushroom, but whenever I saw him my tongue tied up like a Bottega Veneta intrecciato weave. Luckily Sean had grown accustomed to my vanity, and whenever I tossed these compliments his way he actually looked pretty pleased.

He reached out a hand to tug on my fishtail braid playfully. "So do you."

I moved aside slightly to let him in, and he bent down to kiss me. His lips were soft but the kiss was firm, and waiting for him had been totally worth it. He tasted like chocolates.

"Did you put the cookies in my backpack?" he asked.

"Yeah. In case you got hungry during the game."

He pinched my cheek and headed towards my bedroom. "You're so sweet. I finished half of it before the game even started."

I followed him, and he told me they won. Jake did, to be exact. He was just there to share because he didn't play very well. I assured him he was just being modest, although I knew Sean's games were off lately.

"What have you been doing?" he asked.

"Um, Raymond called. Do you want to smoke pot with him?"

"What?"

"I'd really like it if you guys can get to know each other better," I said.

He cringed. "I don't know what turns me off more, pot or Raymond."

"I told him I can't hang out with him one-on-one anymore because I have a boyfriend," I said. "He wasn't very happy about it, and I feel like an awful friend."

"I don't hang out with Janet one-on-one anymore either, but she never gives me attitude for it. She just gets it that some things change once we got together. If he's a real friend he should just be happy for you too."

But things didn't have to change, did they? This was such a stupid system we had here. I didn't care at all that Sean had Janet, but he was giving that up just so he could be fair to me. "I don't know. I think I hurt his feelings."

"Well his feelings are too easily hurt." Sean's tone was neutral, but I could tell he was really not liking the conversation. I didn't want to risk getting into a fight with him over Raymond when I had been waiting for him the whole night. I shut up and snaked my hands up his shirt, where the skin was smooth and warm.

He sighed, a happy one.

Moments later all thoughts on Raymond were out of the window and buried under the snow. In summer Sean's skin was tanned like honey, but right now it was the color of the inside of a roasted almond. He didn't roll away when we were done, instead he pulled me closer and planted a soft kiss on my bare shoulder. That was a especially nice touch, like getting a good quote from the fortune cookie at the end of a delightful Chinese meal. Unlike the kisses during, which were oozing with passionate lust, the peck at the end was full of warm affection.

He said the nicest things to me when we cuddled, and coming from him it was doubly heart-warming. He was really trying to make up for all my missing dates. I couldn't really decide if I preferred the sex or the talk afterwards. Lying next to him always made me feel excited but calmed simultaneously.

He stroked my hair softly and listened to me ramble on about everything that didn't interest him such as fashion and the mean things Sandra said. Maybe he just enjoyed hearing my voice.

I really liked him in my bed, but I say that in a non-sexual way. I liked the way the mattress sank slightly with his weight when he climbed in to join me, the subtle scent of his aftershave, and how comfortable he was being with me. While he still carried that regal air I was so attracted to, there was also an adorable, lazy, casual side of him, added with just the right amount of innocence. It was like watching a cub lion yawning and playfully chasing after a ball.

Some time later, as Sean absently folded the clothes on my bed, I brought over a bottle of burgundy nail polish from my desk. "I bought this color by mistake. It's too dark on fingers, but works surprisingly well on toes."

He glanced at it briefly.

"You want to help me paint my toes?" I was really half joking because I was sure he would refuse, but when I handed the bottle over to him, he obliged.

"Are you sure you want to trust me with this?" He unscrewed the cap.

"You can try."

He bent over, and that cute concentration on his face was just overkill. He worked at it as if he was designing a rocket, but the clumsiness gave him away.

"Uh oh," he said.

"I think you just built a crime scene," I teased.

"Maybe you should wipe it off."

I was going to get the nail polish remover, but then I looked at my toes again. They looked like they belonged on a horror movie poster. I tilted my head and decided that I liked it, because Sean painted it for me. I didn't think anyone else could have made him do it.

It deserved to be memorized, at least. I snapped a picture with Instagram despite his protest and added the hashtag truelove. By the time he left I had collected 283 likes and 129 comments.

I usually didn't do this but I checked. Raymond wasn't one of them.

***