And I cared more than I wanted to admit.
I heard him shift behind me, the floorboard creaking.
“Fifi,” he said gently.
I turned just enough to meet his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I let the sadness show. Just a flicker. Just enough to saythis is hurting me, too.
But I didn’t move toward him, and he didn’t move toward me.
Because neither of us had the answers.
And the distance between us, though only a few feet, felt like a thousand miles.
Finally, he nodded. “I’ll give you some space.”
He stepped away, walking backward like he wanted to say more, like he wasn’t sure he should leave but didn’t know how to stay.
Because the truth I hadn’t said out loud?
I didn’twanthim to go.
But I didn’t know how to ask him to stay.
I felt his presence in the doorway. His body filled it, big, quiet, solid, and even without looking, I knew he was watching me. Not in that appreciative, distracted way he had when I caught him staring at my legs or my mouth.
No. This was different.
This was searching and hesitant.
I slammed the plastic bin of marshmallows shut louder than necessary and pretended I wasn’t unraveling one sharp-edged thought at a time.
“Do you organize the pantry every time something gets hard?” he asked, voice low.
I didn’t turn around. “Only when I’m trying not to say something I’ll regret.”
That gave him pause.
I could hear it in the silence that followed, how he shifted slightly, probably folding his arms across that unfair chest, probably deciding how much honesty he could get away with.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Fifi,” he said finally.
“I didn’t say you were,” I said too quickly. “I said I didn’t want to be played with. That’s different.”
“You’re not being played with.”
My hands tightened on the edge of the shelf. “Then whatamI, Ben? Because we’re sure not acting like this is just two people on vacation anymore.”
He didn’t answer right away. That made it worse.
I turned to face him, arms crossed over my chest, heart hammering like it wanted out.
“I’m not asking for some lifetime commitment,” I said, voice shaking slightly. “I’m not even asking for a promise. I just—” I stopped, jaw tightening. “I just want to know if I’m the only one wondering how the hell this got so real so fast.”
He stepped forward. “You’re not.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m the only one brave enough to admit it?”
He looked at me then, really looked as if he wanted to come closer, but didn’t know if he was still allowed.
