"Agreed. Every good deed has a selfish motive," he jumped in. Then quickly pivoted: "Should people check their ex's socials?"
I frowned. "Who doesn't?"
Our eyes hooked and we said it at the same time: "Sociopaths."
And then we laughed and I added, "Or those that never loved," which made his brows flick up.
"Mmm. So you're a scroller," he said.
"Not really. I'm too avoidant." I tipped my chin toward him. "You strike me as the obsessive type."
"I'm not!" He held a hand to his heart mock-offended, giving himself away. "I'm above it. I only spiral internally like a gentleman."
I laughed. "Nice. So you're the neurotic type."
He tipped his head. "So you'rethatkind of a girl. Diagnosing people for fun."
I shrugged. "Occupational hazard. I overanalyze everything."
He pursed his lips, eyes amused. "I should probably warn your boyfriend. Tell him to run. For his sake, you know."
Was it on the flirty side? Probably. Definitely.
But it was the most effortless and unedited conversation I've ever had.
It felt like we've known each other forever.
There are people you meet and immediately know they'll become part of you. Then there are those you meet and realize they were part of you long before you met them.
Ben was that for me.
I loved David, really, but over the next few months, it became clear: Ben and I had gravity.
Whenever we were in close proximity—a static charge in the air. I'd look up and there he was, watching me as though he's still trying to figure out who I am before he'd vanish. You'd see him alone in the corner, cueing the pool balls like the world didn't exist. Then he'd come back and say something like: "I wasn't ignoring you. Just needed to clear my head. You ever get that feeling someone's rewired your brain without permission?" Just unexpected. Devastating.
The worst part? He had a girlfriend. And every time they came together, it was its own special hell.
David once let me flash spinach in my teeth throughout the entire dinner with his friends. At the time I told myself he lovedme so much, he didn't see it.
Later I found out he didn't see me at all.
Ben... the way he gently fixed his girlfriend's eyelash that kept poking her eye, or when she was irritable, he'd dim the lights and changed the playlist to lo-fi without anyone noticing.
Well, I noticed, and was so ready to buy a diary, scratch my hand and scribble his name with my own blood. It was that dramatic.
So much, I knew it could never be anything more. Too sacred to survive reality.
A car horn yanks me back and I catch myself flipping off the driver, even though I'm clearly walking on red.
Damn, five minutes thinking about Ben and I'm already a rage in kitten heels.
The new doorman nods at me with raised brows, obviously having seen my little road meltdown.
Great. Perfect first impression. I give him my best smile.
Inside the lobby, boxes still ring the walls, but at least the elevator's already waiting. Guess it's my lucky day.
I step in, lean against the mirror, and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
