Every time we parted ways, Jack said, “Text me later” as he winked. It was part demand, part question, wrapped in charm. Of course, I always did. As my senior year zoomed by, our ebbs and flows became markers of time. One week, he was “too busy” for anything; the next, he was all sweet talk. I sometimes still look at my life during that time as alternating periods of good Jack and bad Jack. Through it all, I bent every which way to appease him.