“I just…” I search for the words. “This was fun. You’re great. I just don’t feel that thing. You know?”
He nods. “Yeah. I do.”
There’s a beat of silence, not awkward, just real.
“Ouch,” he drawls, hand to his heart. “Let down by Phern Stone herself.”
I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “You’ll survive.”
“Maybe,” he teases. “But thanks for being honest. And for not ghosting me like a coward.”
“You too,” I say, and I mean it.
He walks me to my door, offers a quick hug, and then he’s gone.
And as I slip inside, I acknowledge the hurt deep inside of my chest. Not because I miss Trey. But because I’m still waiting for a spark that only one man ever seems to ignite. Even if he keeps putting it out.
I kick off my flats, drop my bag on the kitchen counter, and move through the apartment like muscle memory. I’m not sure what I expected to feel. Relief? Sadness? Closure? But all I feel is numb.
I light a candle. Wash my face. Tie my hair up. Try to pretend the ache in my chest isn’t the shape of a man who won’t stay, but never really leaves either. My phone buzzes from across the room. I don’t rush to it. But I don’t ignore it either. I pick it up, expecting maybe a check-in from Tish. A polite goodnight from Trey, even though we already said our goodbyes.
But it’s not either of them.
It’s him.
Will Flowers
Saw you come in. You look good in that dress.
My fingers tighten around the phone. There’s a pause. Three dots flash, then disappear. Then reappear.
Guess he got to see you in it first, huh?
A flush crawls up my neck. I don’t know if it’s anger or longing or some bitter blend of both. Another message comes through before I can reply.
Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.
But he did. And I’m still standing here, holding on to every word like it means something.
Because it does. Even if he won’t admit it. Even if I don’t know what to do about it.
I don’t respond.
I stare at Will’s message for a long time, fingers hovering over the screen like maybe if I wanted it enough, the right words would appear on their own.
But they don’t.
So I turn the phone over and climb into bed.
I pull the blanket up to my chin and shut my eyes, forcing sleep to come. Will’s words linger behind my eyelids, threading through the dark like whispers I can't escape.
You looked good in that dress.
Guess he got to see you in it first.
Forget it.
I wish I could.
