Maybe.
Or maybe I’m just having a psychotic break. That makes more sense than suddenly deciding I enjoy spending time with Lucas. I’ve even started coordinating my lunch breaks with him.
Yeah, I’m definitely going insane.
There’s no other explanation for the way I’m actually considering being friends with him again. Thankfully I’m not crazy enough to listen to the little voice in the back of my head that keeps muttering nonsense about beingmorethan friends. It doesn’t matter that I still want him—he’s made it very clear that our little tryst was a one-off. We’re both adults who needed to release some tension, and that’s all it was. I’m not stupid enough to keep hooking up with him when I know it’ll end with my heart in tatters again.
Thinking about the potential ofthatoutcome, being friends seems a lot less ridiculous.
I can handle friendship. Even if my heart jumps in my chest every time my phone lights up with a text from him.
Lucas: Dinner at mine tn?
My anxiety spikes at the invitation, mind whirling with too many possibilities. Having lunch with him this last week has been easy. Conversation flows without us winding up at each other’s throats, and taking a real lunch break to sit on the porch is good for me. Work hasn’t dragged on endlessly, and I’ve been in a noticeably better mood.
But dinner is a different story.
Dinner means evening, means no one around to wander over and join us while we eat, means beingalone. The last time we were alone… Well, I didn’t exactly behave myself in Bozeman.
Lucas hasn’t tried anything since we went on our ride, but I can’t help worrying that he’s asking me on a date. I can’t help the fact that Iwantit to be a date, just a little.
That’s not what he said. All he asked about was dinner. I’m reading too much into this.
If I get there and he has candles and flowers, I’ll walk right back out. That simple. I don’t let myself spiral any further before texting him back with an agreement. It’s already close to the time I usually call it a day, so I wrap up a little early to give myself time to change into a tank top and shorts and put some perfume on.
It’s not because I want to look good for Lucas. It’s just to give myself some time to calm down, a routine to focus on. Nothing more.
I keep my mind carefully blank as I make my way down to his trailer and knock on the thin metal door. He answers moments later, his hair damp from a shower, wearing a well-loved tank top and a pair of black sweats. He looks exceedingly normal—by which I mean he looks like a fucking wet dream, but not ike he’strying to spring a surprise date on me. I don’t see any candles or roses, either, which is a good sign.
“Come on in,” he says with a lazy grin, stepping back and tilting his head to invite me inside.
It’s pretty barren, even for a trailer. No knick knacks on the counter, no dishes in the sink. His bed is unmade and messy, and his closet door is open, showing a sea of flannel shirts and worn-out jeans. A brown paper bag sits on the tiny kitchenette table, the smell of greasy fast food wafting out from it.
It’s easy to relax when Lucas slumps into a seat and starts pulling food from the bag, not trying to fill the air with awkward conversation or make a pass at me. We’re just hanging out, just like we have been.
I refuse to acknowledge the part of me that wishes thiswasa date.
“I was so excited when I found out The Slop Shop was still open,” Lucas says with a bright smile. “Hope your order’s still the same, I just picked up what we used to get.”
“The Slop Shop?” I ask, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from my chest. “Jesus, I haven’t gone there in ages. Can’t believe you remembered my order after so long.”
I take a seat opposite Lucas, my nerves replaced with excitement and a warm, soft buzzing in my limbs that I ignore. Lucas always surprised me with what he remembered when we were younger, seemingly memorizing even the most mundane details. He nudges a burger and a pack of fries toward me, along with a strawberry milkshake, and my heart aches in my chest.
“Course I did,” he says simply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “I was just worried you’d changed what you liked. I feel like I hardly know you anymore, but I figured this was a safe bet. No one can resist a good burger.”
My gut instinct is to snap at him, to tell him he doesn’t know anything about me and doesn’t deserve to anymore. He left mebehind and lost the right to know anything about me. But I’m here because I want to be friends, aren’t I?
Lucas and I were good for each other aspeople, not just as partners. If I want to get anything that we had back, I have to open myself up again. I’m not saying that I plan to bare my heart and tell him that I never really stopped loving him, but maybe a little vulnerability isn’t a bad idea. It’s just a conversation, just dinner.
Just friendship.
“Time apart will do that,” I say slowly, unwrapping my burger as an excuse to avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t think I’ve changed all that much, really.”
Lucas is quiet for a moment, but he takes the olive branch for what it is and pushes just a little further. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know you like I used to.”
He doesn’t mean it the way I wish he would. I’d walk away if he did, anyway. This is just us rekindling a platonic relationship. Friends know things about each other.
It could be easy, if I’d let it be.
