My hopes were shattered by the sight of Rome and Atticus’s pitying faces.
“What?” I demanded, defensiveness making my tone sharper than I intended.
They exchanged glances. Rome said, “he should like you already, Eddie. He already knows the kind of person you are,” he continued. “If he can’t see how great you are, that’s on him.”
“Then,” I said, “he doesn’t think I’m great enough.”
“No,” Atticus said. “It just means he’s blind.”
A silence settled over the table as I thought over what they said. It had stunned me — both because it was kind, a reminder that I should already be loved the way I was. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt under the surface.
The following week was my busiest yet. I knew that if I remained still for too long, I’d think about Leo and feel awful. I’d remember our last meeting and his tone of voice. I’d wonder what part of me wasn’t good enough. Then I’d think about the best moments — the laughter and the teasing, and even the sex, and I’d have to squeeze my eyes shut to make my brain stop.
I studied in the library and worked harder on my assignments than usual. I had lunch on campus with Atticus and Elena and meal-prepped with Rome. I spent time at the queercollective headquarters, a room that used to be a professor’s office but was now covered in rainbow flags, stickers and posters and filled with students who registered new members and organised future events. At one point, I considered visiting the university gym because exercise would be a productive way to manage my stress and emotions, but changed my mind in case I ran into Leo.
That was another thing I found myself doing — searching the faces of the people who passed me when I walked through campus. It’d only be after I sifted through them — no, no, not him, no, no, doesn’t have his smile, no — I’d realise I was searching for Leo.
Worse, I paid extra attention to my morning appearance, just in case I ran into him. Sometimes, when I was slouched at my desk in the library, hating my assignment, I’d remember that Leo could be around, and I didn’t want to look depressed. So I’d fix my posture and make a concentrated effort not to act weird, like scratch my armpit. I was living in a panopticon, and it was all his fault.
Friday night, I was staying in and trying my best not to wallow. I’d made myself a cheese platter for dinner and put on a comedy. Very soon, however, I realised the movie was a rom-com, and it was an extremely horrifying moment when even the sight of two actors holding hands made my heart ache.
A boy had never made me feel this way before. Which, on one hand, emphasised that it had been real, but also — why the hell did he have to ruin movies for me too?
Oh god. I was so sensitive, I probably wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without seeing something that would make me feel terrible.
That was it. I needed to get over him once and for all.
Maybe I should just rebound. Yes, I had ditched the whole casual thing for various reasons, but look where that got me. So,I paused the film, brushed the cracker crumbs off my fingers, and pulled out my phone.
I redownloaded a hookup app, logged in, and started swiping through the profiles. One guy was tall but not as tall as Leo. Another had a nice body, but I liked Leo’s. There was one guy who looked alright, but I liked Leo’s shade of blond hair better —
Oh my god. I needed to get a hold of myself. I started swiping right on everyone, and soon, my phone dinged loudly, signifying that I’d gotten a match. I watched the bubble with three dots pop up as the other guy typed.
AnonFella39: hey.
CucumberEggplant: hi.
AnonFella39: wyd tonight
CucumberEggplant: eating overpriced cheese and watching a crappy rom-com.
AnonFella39: lol
AnonFella39: send pic? ;)
CucumberEggplant: I have a pic on my profile
AnonFella39: I meant of your cucumber eggplant ;)
I hesitated.
CucumberEggplant: why don’t we get to know each other first?
A long pause.
CucumberEggplant: don’t you think sex is better when you have a connection?
My phone buzzed with a notification:AnonFella39 disconnected from you.
