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We aren’t a couple.
We’re two people who made an agreement.
That’s all.
“True,” I retort. “But…we are friends, and out of respect for that, I would never hurt you in that way. I would be up front and tell you if I was seeing someone, which I’m not.”
“I appreciate that.”
I quickly add, trying to level the playing field, “And if you ever feel like seeing someone, I hope you would tell me, too.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Foster steps away from the kitchen island and opens the fridge. “I have no intentions of dating anyone.”
“Right.”
My heart sinks completely, bottoming out near my toes and spreading along the floor.
There it is.
Reality unveils itself completely, hitting me with the velocity of an angry gunshot. My heart stings, punctured emotionally by the unintentional biting words released from the man before me.
I’m wounded by facts.
It’s not his truth. It’s mine.
His words have hollowed me.
I hadn’t realized how hopeful I was for something more committal between Foster and me until it was taken away from me just now. In the very beginning, he’d stated he wasn’t interested in dating. I had known that from the day I met him. He’d said girls were complicated, and he was right.
My thoughts are everywhere at once.
I’m complicated.
Watching Foster retrieve a soda, anger comes over me. I desperately want to direct it at him for making me feel something more romantic for him, but I can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I let my foolish hormones convince my brain that our connection was beyond sex, despite knowing the rules all along. After all, we’d set them together.
My heart broke the rules.
I’m pissed at my betraying heart.
What I felt was one-sided.
What I feel is unrequited.
Typical.
“Do you want one?” Foster questions, offering me a cola.
“No, thanks.” I blink away the slight prick of tears from the major onslaught of emotions. “I’m good.”
“EJ, I’m sorry. I should have returned your calls this week.” He sets the can on the counter. “That wasn’t very friend-like of me.”
“No, it was a pretty dick move.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Bending at the waist, he rests his elbows on the ledge, staring at his unopened drink. “Maybe we should stop sleeping with each other before things get too…blurry. I’d hate to lose your friendship over a misunderstanding.”
“Yeah,” I barely whisper, letting the reality of his words sink in. “It’s probably for the best.”
We share a moment of remorse.
“It’s too bad though,” I state. “We were really good at it—the sex thing.”
“We did seem to know what we were doing,” he agrees solemnly.
“That’s an understatement.”
He lifts his palm from the counter, balling it into a fist. “It was fun though, right?”
“It was certainly a good run.” I fake a smile, curl my own hand, and bump it with his.
