LANA:Nothing.
SETH:Nothing.
LANA:Just a little surprised you’re going on a date.
SETH:Three dates with one person is on my list, correct?
JAMES:Normally this would be the time when I’d tell you to get a room, but I’m popping the popcorn so please keep this conversation going.
—
As I proofreadthe post I just finished for my blog—a list of my favorite second-chance romances—my stomach turns. Compiling lists of my favorite romance tropes isn’t unusual—I feature them on my blog frequently—but this particular trope is maybe not the best one to be dwelling on given the circumstances. And that’s when I realize I might be a little more upset about Seth’s upcoming second date with Jessica than I should be. I don’t know what I expected to happen after our parking-lot confessional, but it definitely wasn’t his turning around and going on a date with someone else. Even if I’m the one who wrote the damn task.
I swipe open my phone and pull up my texts with May.
Me:Is it weird that I’m jealous Seth is going on dates?
May:Is that a question you want an actual response to or just a one-word confirmation?
Me:Let’s start with one word.
May:No.
Me:Okay, you’re right. I need more explanation than that.
May:Of course it’s not weird that you’re jealous your ex whom you totally still have feelings for is going on a date.
Me:I don’t have feelings for him. Seth and I are just friends. And we’re barely even that.
May:Lie to yourself all you want, but don’t try that shit with me.
Me:Okay fine. It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for him or not—which I will neither confirm nor deny. Right now is about me. Finding myself and eat-pray-loving and shit.
May:Love the sentiment.
Me:Meaning?
May:It means, I fully support you eat-pray-loving and shit, but I also know you can’t just dismiss your feelings for him like that.
I sit with that one for a minute before I respond.
Me:I know. I’m not dismissing them. I’m putting them on hold. Giving us time to reconnect as friends while I figure my shit out.
May:You going to tell him that?
Me:Fuck no.
May:Good. Happy hour today?
Me:Fuck yes.
—
Three days later,I plant myself at a work desk with a direct sight line to theATFoffice’s main entrance. My legs are crossed, foot swinging gleefully in time with the tap-tap-tapping of my pen on the Lucite work surface.
I haven’t seen Seth in person since he told me I’m his true north and I kissed him in the parking lot. We haven’tspoken at all since he revealed his big date-number-two plans in the Slack. I’ve been avoiding going into the office because I know things are going to be the very definition of awkward when I do see him. Fortunately, during some light Instagram stalking yesterday, I stumbled upon the perfect icebreaker, a legit reason to talk to him that has nothing to do with the breathless kiss I’ve replayed in my head a thousand times. Today is deadline day, and I know he’ll be coming into the office. He still likes to hand-deliver his final drafts like it’s the 1940s.
Seth rolls in about half an hour after I started my stakeout, which is really good timing, as I was just about to lose interest.
