He was my Jordan Catalano, you know?

He was the boy adventure I never had.  Like Angela yearned for Jordan, I yearned for him.  Six ft tall, blond hair, grey eyes, slim but athletic - he was like an untouchable mirage, a magazine hunk, a pop star adored by millions.  One dimensional on the page, always on the screen but never in the flesh. One may admire, drool a little even, but never touch.

Except I had seen him in the flesh.  He lived next door after all.  I saw him often. We passed on the carpeted hallway stairs in the bright early mornings.   Him on his way to work and mine to another lecture.  We'd cross paths at the front door - sometimes every day, sometimes not for weeks. 

A nod, a smile and Happy New Years were exchanged.  I never knew him; he may aswell have been a million light years away.

Dozens of girls floated through his life that year, like a stream of cherry petals tossed by a spring breeze.  Each one prettier than the last. 

I watched from the sidelines, both envious and jealous.  Wanting what they had, yet not.  They never lasted long and I could not bear that.  Anything but that.....




The End

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