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People act like the opposite of love is hate. But hate is passion. Strong emotions like love and hate need fuel. And I think that’s what Ellie and I lacked. Fuel. We just coexisted out of convenience. Stayed together out of convenience. There was nothing driving us together.
That’s not to say I didn’t care about her, because I did. I know I did. But I realized how I didn’t care in the right ways when I met Sutton. And I realize it all over again now, comparing how I feel right now with how I did outside of Dave’s Grocery a couple of months ago.
There’s nobam. It feels like it’s been eight years since I saw her because it has been. Details and memories have faded and frayed.
I would recognize Ellie if I spotted her on the street. Her hair is shorter than it was in high school, only brushing her shoulders. It’s curled into ringlets too perfect to be natural even if I didn’t know her hair dries straight. She’s wearing a blazer, looking more like she’s attending a board meeting than a family dinner.
Ellie glances up and spots us. Her gaze settles on Sutton first.
Sutton, who’s captured the attention of most of the restaurant in just a few steps. Most of the people we pass don’t have recognition on their faces, just admiration. I send one guy with a low gaze a harsh glare, and he quickly looks away.
When I look at Ellie again, her eyes are on me. There’s no emotion on her face; it’s entirely smooth.
Eric stands as Sutton and I reach the table, extending a hand out to shake, which I do. This is the first time I’ve ever met an ex-girlfriend’s fiancé. I’m not sure how I should feel about him. How he should feel about me.
He’s a good-looking guy, tall and broad-shouldered. With a serious air about him and a friendly smile. His grip is firm, but not asshole tight.
Eric is saying hello, not proving a point. It makes me wonder what Ellie has told him about me. Because last I checked, she consideredmeto be the asshole. The guy who broke up with her right after a funeral, citingI can’t see a future togetherafter having applied to the University of Michigan right alongside her. That was the closest I could come to the truth—because I see it with someone else.
Sutton and Ellie share a quick hug, and then Ellie and I are left staring at each other as Eric greets Sutton.
“Hi, Teddy.” Ellie speaks first.
“Hey, Ellie. It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah,” she says, searching my expression.
I don’t know if she’s looking for regret or jealousy, but she won’t find any.
Maybe I’m thinking too highly of myself. Just because I seem to be incapable of moving on from the girl I met in high school doesn’t mean other people cling to the past as tightly.
Maybe she’s just cataloging the changes in my appearance. I spent high school in a collection of worn T-shirts, jeans, and basketball shorts. Honestly, that part of my wardrobe hasn’t changed much. But I knew tonight would be fancy, so I put more of an effort in, opting for a navy suit with a white button-down, sans tie.
I pull Sutton’s chair out for her before taking a seat myself. As soon as she sits, the slit in her dress opens, exposing all but the very top of her right leg. I stare for a second longer than I should before grabbing my water glass and taking a long sip.
“Have you been here before, Ellie?” Sutton asks. “Eric?” She tacks his name on, almost as an afterthought.
I’m just realizing they have matching names. I’m not sure why it strikes me as so amusing in this moment—nervous energy, probably—but I chuckle quietly before drinking more water.
Sutton gives me a strange look as Ellie nods.
“Yes. Eric’s company has held a couple of events here, and we came for dinner ourselves once. Remember, sweetie?”
Eric hums an agreement as he surveys the menu.
“What do you recommend?” Sutton asks, opening her own.
“I got the lamb last time, but it doesn’t look like they have it anymore.”
“I don’t eat lamb anyway,” Sutton says.
Ellie scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Saint Sutton.”
The awkward silence that follows is broken by our waiter’s appearance. “Good evening. My name is Charlie, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you any drinks or appetizers to get started?”
I flip my own menu open for the first time as Eric asks a question about something involving shrimp. I’m not listening very closely as I scan the list of options. And then, before I can think it through or talk myself out of it, I move my left hand off the table and rest it just above Sutton’s right knee.
She pulls in a quick, surprised inhale but doesn’t otherwise react. Doesn’t shift away or shake me off. I rub the pad of my thumb in tiny circles that are technically innocent but feel anything but. Sutton’s legs part as she leans into my touch.
