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When I saw he was calling earlier, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. I thought,this can’t be real.
I debated on not answering, but of course my heart won out and I’m glad I did. I hope he’s coming over here to apologize for ditching me this morning and not to tell me we can’t see each other, but that doesn’t seem to be his M.O. His sign that he’s done seeing someone is to just ghost them. Or maybe it’s only me he does that to.
I tidy up the living room, turn the television to the Netflix home screen, and quickly load the dishwasher.
Again, why am I trying to impress him?
Because I love him. And also, a messy house isno buenoregardless if someone’s coming over or not.
Just as I’m folding the blanket to place over the back of the couch, my doorbell rings. I open the door, and can’t help the smile as I see Eric standing there with bags from the local gourmet burger place he knows I love, and that we used to frequent together all the time.
“I come bearing gifts of groveling and apology.” He fucking bows while holding the bags, and I shake my head.
“You’re too much,” I say, ushering him inside.
He sets the food down and grabs me, enveloping me in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
I stare into his beautiful blue eyes, my gaze flicking back and forth. “You need to stop bolting every time you’re scared. I’m sick of it.”
His full lips lift in a smile and then he kisses me softly. I, of course, kiss him back because I’m weak for him. This man could tell me to drive the getaway car while he robs a bank and I would do that. And that makes me pathetic.
As he pulls back, I gaze into his eyes once more. “I know dudes hate these four dreaded words, but, Eric... we need to talk.”
He nods and sighs, resigned. “I know.”
I grab his hand and lead him to the couch, where we both sit, facing each other.
“Why were you at the Mile High Rooms last night?” I ask honestly.
He shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t look away. “To see you. Why were you there?”
“Same reason,” I reply. “What would you have done if I wasn’t there, and someone else walked in?”
“I would have left,” he answers immediately. “I wanted to see you.”
“You could have just called me. I don’t understand why you didn’t,” I say, frustrated.
“Didn’t think you’d want me.” He shrugs.
I stare at him for a few long, seconds, and ask, “Why were you at the rooms the first time?”
“To try to get you out of my system, but it was you there anyway, and there was no way I was going to not have you. It was cowardly, I know.” This time, he does look down. “Why were you?”
“Same reason, to fuck you out of my system. Turns out, I just thought about you the whole time, so that didn’t work at all and I’ve been feeling guilty about it since, even though we weren’t together.”
“Same here,” he admits. “I’m just glad it wasn’t anyone but you there. I’m deleting the app, by the way.”
“Me too,” I admit, because I’ve been thinking about it anyway. Meaningless sex is just that—meaningless.
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, his hand brushing mine.
Finally, I gesture to my body and I ask, “Do I look thinner to you?”
He looks stressed, not moving his gaze from my face. “Uh, this feels like a trick question.”
I chuckle a little, and say, “No, I’m being serious. It’s not a trick. It’s not like you can hurt my feelings either way.”
“Okay, full stop? Yes. You look thinner, and for the record, I don’t fucking like it.”
