By Monday night, I’d convinced myself of the truth: Ellis ghosted me.
The nice guy with the hazel eyes had decided I wasn’t worth thefollow-through. Fine. Totally fine. I barely knew him. One conversation at the gym, a handful of texts I’d reread maybe four times.
Except it did, and that’s what pissed me off.
I grabbed my phone and texted Calliope.
Jett:Going out tonight. Neon Pulse. You in?
Calliope:It’s Monday.
Jett:Your point?
Calliope:My point is it’s MONDAY and you’re asking to go clubbing. What happened?
Jett:Nothing happened. Can’t a guy just want to have fun?
Calliope:…Ellis ghosted you, didn’t he?
I stared at the screen. Typed and deleted three different responses. Finally settled on:
Jett:I’ll be there at 10. With or without you.
Calliope:With. Obviously. Someone needs to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.
Jett:Too late for that.
Neon Pulse on a Monday looked different from Friday nights. Smaller crowd, more locals, people who came to dance off a rough day rather than celebrate the weekend. The music hit just as hard, though, bass rattling my ribs, lights cutting through the haze.
Calliope met me at the bar. She wore her usual chaos; ripped jeans, an oversized flannel, hair spiked in every direction like she’d stuck her finger in an outlet.
“Okay.” She handed me a drink I didn’t order. Vodka cranberry, heavyon the vodka. “Talk to me.”
“Nothing to talk about.” I downed half of it in one go. “Guy from the gym texted me Friday, went silent, clearly not interested. End of story.”
“It’s been three days, Jett. That’s not ghosting, that’s just… life.”
“Three days is ghosting.”
“Three days is having a busy weekend.” She grabbed my wrist before I could finish the drink. “What are you really doing here?”
“Dancing. Drinking. Living my life.” I pulled away, scanning the crowd. “What I always do.”
“You’re running.”
“I’m having fun.”
“You’re running from feelings about Gym Guy.”
“Ellis. His name’s Ellis, and I don’t have feelings.” The words tasted like lies. “I barely know him.”
“Then why are you here on a Monday night trying to fuck someone else to prove a point?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Turned back to my drink.
“That’s what I thought.” Calliope’s voice softened. “Babe, it’s okay to like someone.”
“I don’t like him. I just thought…” What? He might be different? Maybe this time something could actually stick? “I thought wrong. So now I’m correcting course.”
