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“Yep.”
“And you still want her.”
“Yes and no. I mean, that feeling inside me from the first time, it’s there.” It’s trying to sneak past my defenses and reach out, to connect again. But defense is kinda my thing these days.
I hit Stop and coast off the machine. “Rationally, though? I really fucking don’t, because I’ve been down that road before… and it’s a dead end.”
Arms crossed over his big-ass chest, Static gives me a thoughtful look. “I’ll be honest, this isn’t a conversation I expected to have with you.”
I grunt, staring at my shoes a beat. “You’re back in the trust tree, so I guess we’re friends again. Don’t fuck it up.”
3
Lara
For a minute that first morning, I thought maybe. Maybe things could go back to some semblance of what they were. But every time I think I catch a glimpse of the Ben I used to know, in the next blink, he’s gone. Replaced by this generous, painfully attractive, confusingly reserved version of my old friend. And my heart sinks a little lower.
The next week is a blur of overly polite, desperately superficial interactions.
How was your day?
Good. Yours?
Great.
Terrific.
We barely skim the surface of superficial, and it’s awful.
How’s the workout?
Good. How’s the new office?
Great.
Terrific.
We keep an unnatural distance between us.
If I’m on the couch when he gets back from wherever he goes— and he’s always going somewhere —it’s not enough to sit on the other end or in one of the deep cushy chairs on either side. No. He stands at the far corner of the room, making sure to ask me something, anything… even if it feels like nothing.
If he’s getting food in the kitchen when I’m on my way to fill up my water bottle, I linger just beyond the cutout doorway.
Which makes no sense. This kitchen is not small.
And God help us when we end up checking the mailbox at the same time or worse, have to share the elevator.
It’s like this negative pressure exists between us in a way it never did when we were in high school. Not even when we were dating other people and, out of respect for those relationships, making a point not to get too close.
Now? We’re both being weird when we used to just click.
It’s miserable. And while I might have this kind of awkward coming for moving in like this, Ben definitely deserves better. So today I’m going to give it to him.
* * *
Ben
My brain is bouncing hard this morning, offering me a whole hell of a lot of opinions about the girl I moved into Bowie’s room last week:
